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PRINCIPLES  AND  METHODS  OF 

MORAL   TRAINING 


TO  ONE   GOOD   MOTHER 
AND  TO  THE   SACRED   MEMORY  OF   ANOTHER 
THIS   BOOK   IS   DEDICATED 
BY  THEIR   SONS 


. 


PRINCIPLES  AND  METHODS 

op  / 

MORAL    TRAINING 

WITH  SPECIAL  REFERENCE  TO 

SCHOOL    DISCIPLINE 


BY 

J.  WELTON,  MA. 

\  v 

PROFESSOR   OF   EDUCATION   IN   THE   UNIVERSITY   OF    LEEDS 

AUTHOR  OF    "PRINCIPLES   AND   METHODS   OF   TEACHING,"    "THE    LOGICAL   BASES   OF 

EDUCATION,"    "A    MANUAL   OF    LOGIC,"    ETC. 

AND 

F.  G.  BLANDFORD,  M.A. 

LECTURER    IN    EDUCATION    IN    THE   CAMBRIDGE    UNIVERSITY   TRAINING   COLLEGE 


BALTIMORE,    MP.,    U.S.A. 

WARWICK    &    YORK,    INC. 
TOniversitg  tutorial  press  XD. 

ENGLAND 


c 


t  « 


PREFACE. 


This  book  is  intended  as  a  companion  to  the  Principles 
and  Methods  of  Teaching,  and,  like  that  work,  is  both  theo- 
retical and  practical.  In  the  suggestions  as  to  practice, 
however,  it  is  felt  that  there  is  no  need,  in  this  case,  to 
limit  the  outlook  to  one  type  of  school.  Schools  differ 
widelv  in  their  curricula  and  in  the  asje  at  which  their 
pupils  leave,  and  consequently  a  book  on  teaching  should 
confine  itself  to  one  type  of  school  or  it  would  become 
unwieldy  and  at  the  same  time  would  lose  in  definiteness 
of  application.  But  in  a  treatment  of  the  disciplinary 
aspect  of  school  life  this  is  much  less  the  case.  It  is  true 
that  differences  in  the  age  of  the  pupils  and  differences  in 
the  type  of  school  lead  to  wide  differences  in  disciplinary 
organization.  But  it  is  much  easier  to  see  the  common 
principles  which  underlie  such  differences  than  it  is  to 
trace  common  principles  in  the  methods  of  teaching  very 
different  subjects.  Consequently  we  have  applied  our 
theory  to  schools  of  all  types,  and  our  work  is  intended  to 
cover  all  institutions  in  which  the  vouno*  are  trained. 

But  such  applications  are  intended  only  as  illustrations 
of  the  theory.  In  discipline  even  more  than  in  teaching 
"it  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth,  the  flesh  profit eth 
nothing."  Discipline  is,  therefore,  treated  primarily  from 
the  point  of  view  of  its  effect  on  the  child  ;  secondarily,  and 
by  way  of  illustration,  from  the  point  of  view  of  its  exer- 
cise by  the  teacher.     The  personality  and  temperament  of 

V 


VI  PREFACE. 

the  teacher  count  for  so  much,  and  the  success  of  the  work 
is  so  dependent  on  the  personal  relation  between  him  and 
Ins  pupils,  that  the  adoption  by  one  teacher  of  the  detailed 
plans  and  methods  of  another  is  fraught  with  considerable 
danger.  There  is  no  royal  road  to  discipline,  there  can  be 
no  cut-and-dried  rules  even  for  maintaining  order,  and  we 
do  not  offer  a  vacle  mecum  to  teachers  who  are  incompetent 
in  these  matters. 

We  have,  however,  indicated  modes  of  dealing  with  boys 
which  we  ourselves  have  found  to  be  effective,  but  each  of 
our  readers  must  work  out  for  himself  or  herself  his  or  her 
own  lines  of  treatment.  Our  joint  experience  has  covered, 
we  believe,  day  schools  and  boarding  schools  of  almost 
every  type  for  boys,  but  it  has  of  necessity  been  much 
smaller  in  the  sphere  of  girls'  schools.  What  we  have  said 
about  boys  may  require  some  modification,  therefore,  when 
applied  to  girls.  But  the  modification  is  only  of  detail : 
the  general  principles  are  unaffected  by  the  difference  of 
sex. 

We  must  ask  our  ladv  readers  to  be  tolerant  of  our 
arrogant  use  of  the  masculine  pronoun.  The  fault  is  not 
entirely  our  own.  We  have  at  our  disposal  a  reasonable 
supply  of  nouns.  '  Teacher  '  is  a  fair  compromise  between 
1  master '  and  '  mistress  ',  '  child  '  or  '  pupil '  may  be  used  at 
times  to  include  '  boy '  and  '  girl ' ;  but  we  have  no  corre- 
sponding pronoun  of  common  gender,  and  the  most  that  we 
can  claim  is  that  we  have  generally  avoided  the  tempting 
discourtesy  of  '  it.' 

We  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  Mr.  W.  P.  Welpton, 
Master  of  Method  in  the  University  of  Leeds,  for  his 
kindness  in  reading  the  more  theoretical  chapters  and  in 
aiding  us  with  suggestion  and  criticism. 

It  is  with  a  grave  sense  of  responsibility  that  we  have 


PREFACE.  Vll 

undertaken  and  carried  out  our  task.  The  subject  is  the 
one  fundamental  matter  in  education,  compared  with 
which  questions  of  curriculum  and  of  teaching  sink  into 
insignificance.  It  is,  moreover,  one  on  which  teachers  are 
specially  sensitive.  Yet  we  feel  that  it  is  one  in  which 
mere  routine  is  too  often  followed ;  and  mere  routine  can 
never  produce  the  results  which  the  country  nee<ls  of 
earnest-minded,  upright  and  honourable  citizens.  It  is 
only  by  an  examination  into  first  principles  and  by  the 
application  of  them  to  current  practice  that  the  dis- 
ciplinary influence  of  our  schools  can  be  made  effective 
and  productive. 

In  the  humble  hope  of  aiding  some  at  least  to  dig 
beneath  the  surface  of  custom  and  to  find  the  gold  of 
reasoned  conviction  we  present  our  work  to  teachers  and 
to  parents. 

J.  W. 
F.  Gr.  B. 

June  1909. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 


NATURE   OF   MORAL   TRAINING. 

1.  Education  and  Morality 

Molality  and  Capacity 
Teaching  and  Morality 

2.  Influence  of  the  Home     ... 
Relation  between  Home  and  School     ... 
Influence  of  the  School    ... 
Aim  of  Moral  Training    ... 
Relations  between  Child  and  World    ... 

7.  Education  and  Individuali by     ... 

8.  Order  of  Treatment 


o 
o. 

4. 

5. 

6. 


PACE 


1 

2 

3 

7 

10  i/- 
10  u/ 
12 
14 
17 
20 


CHAPTER   II. 


HABIT. 

1 .  Origin  of  Habits  ... 

2.  Place  of  Habit  in  Life     ... 

Habits  and  Character .. . 
Habits  and  Habitudes 
Strength  of  Habitudes 

3.  Change  of  Habitudes 

4.  Habitudes  and  School  Life 

Extension  and  readjustment  of  Home  Habitudes 
Chief  School  Habitudes 
Negation  of  Habitudes 
School  Training  as  Formative  of  Purpose  ... 

ix 


21 
11 
23 
24 
25 
28 
30 
31 
32 
35 
36 


£  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

DUTY. 

PAGE 

1.  Habitude  and  Duty         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  38 

2.  Origin  of  Idea  of  Duty    ...         ...         ...         ...  39 

3.  Duty  as  Constraint          ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  41 

Forms  of  Constraint    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  41 

Constraint  in  Home  and  in  School  ...         ...         ...         ...  43 

Justification  of  Authoritative  Constraint  ...         ...         ...  44 

Constraint  and  Freedom         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  48 

in  the  Physical  World    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  49 

in  the  Human  World      50 

The  Individual  and  Society              ...         ...         ...         ...  52 

4.  Duty  as  an  Inward  Force           ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  54 

5.  Duty  and  Life       ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  56 

Positive  and  Negative  Constraint    ...         ...         ...         ...  58 

6.  The  Standard  of  Duty r        59 

7.  Decision  of  Duty  .. .         ...         ...         ...         ...  61 

Choice  of  Means           ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  61 

Conflict  of  Ends           61 

Conflict  of  Moral  Maxims      ...         ...         ...  64 


CHAPTER   IV. 

VIRTUE. 

1.  Nature  of  Virtue 67 

2.  Virtue  and  Duty  ...         68 

3.  Virtue  and  Habitudes     ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  69 

4.  Virtue  and  Purpose         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  71 

Materialism       ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  71 

Sensationalism...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  72 

Material  and  Spiritual  Aims  ...         ...         ...         ...  73 

Embodiment  of  Purpose         ...         ...         ...         ...         ■••  74 

5.  Analysis  of  Virtue  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  77 

6.  Wisdom      79 

Cultivation  of  Wisdom  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  83 

Morality  and  Religion  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  87 

Reverence  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  88 


CONTENTS. 

XI 

7. 

Courage    ...         ...         ...         ...         

PAGK 

91 

8. 

Temperance         ...         ...         

92 

9. 

Justice 

9r> 

Justice  and  Charity  ... 

9(3 

10. 

Virtue  and  Childhood    ... 

CHAPTER  V. 

CONSCIENCE. 

97 

1. 

Conscience  and  Conduct 

99 

Repentance  and  Remorse     ... 

101 

2. 

Nature  of  Conscience     ... 

WA 

3. 

Validity  of  Conscience  ... 

106 

Variations  in  apprehension  of  Moral  Law 

107 

4. 

Education  of  Conscience 

IK* 

Sensitiveness  of  Conscience ... 

...     110 

Conscience  and  Will 

Ill 

Order  of  development  of  Conscience 

Ill 

Moral  Though tf ulness          ...         

11?. 

Moral  Insight... 

114 

Conscience  and  Religion 

115 

Moral  Guidance 

115 

CHAPTER  VI. 


THE   SCHOOL   COMMUNITY. 

1.  Disciplinary  Function  of  the  School  ... 

Importance  of  Common  Life 
Self-assertion  and  Group-consciousness 
Effects  of  Discipline  ... 

2.  Rights  and  Obligations... 

3.  Nature  of  a  Community 

4.  Laws  in  a  Community  ... 

Illustration:  A  Factory 

5.  Organization  of  the  School  Community 

Effects  of  Bureaucracy 
Functions  of  Head-teacher  ... 
Recognition  of  Law  ... 


119 
119 
122 
123 
123 
124 
126 
127 
129 
130 
132 
132 


Xll 


G. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Characteristics  of  School  Laws 

..     133 

Grounded  in  Authority  and  Sympathy 

..     134 

Reasonableness 

..     135 

Justice 

... 

.     137 

Publicity 

..     138 

Breadth 

.     138 

Enforcement  of  Law 

... 

.     138 

Government    ... 

...                      .  . 

.     139 

Punishment     ... 

.  .                      ...                      .  • 

.     140 

Discipline ... 

...                      .. 

.     142 

School  Tone    . . . 

... 

.     143 

Tone  and  Individuals 

.     146 

Differences  between  Individuals     ... 

.     149 

Discipline  and  Supervision  ... 

.     151 

Summary 

.  . 

.     152 

CHAPTER  VII. 


EXERCISE   OF   DISCIPLINE. 


Relation  between  Discipline,  Government,  and  Influence 

Discipline  and  Government 

Discipline  and  Influence 
Aims  of  School  Government    ... 

Convenience  in  Teaching     . . . 

Formation  of  Habits 

Training  of  Pupils'  Characters 

Training  of  Teachers'  Characters 
Disciplinary  Government 

It  depends  on  the  Teacher  . . . 

and  on  the  Pupils 

The  Teacher's  Standard  of  Ordei 

Examination  of  Extreme  Cases 
Laxity  ... 
Rigidity 

Relations  involved  in  Discipline 

Difficulties  of  Government  ... 

Fear  as  a  Factor  of  Discipline 

Punishment  as  a  Factor  of  Discipline 


153 

153 
155 
157 
158 
158 
159 
159 
159 
159 
160 
162 
163 
163 
164 
168 
169 
171 
173 


CONTENTS. 


XD1 


4.  Disciplinary  Influence 

Personal  Relations    ... 
Personality  of  the  Teacher  . 


TACK 

174 
175 
176 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


DISCIPLINARY   ORGANIZATION   OF  THE    SCHOOL. 


1.  Organization  as  an  Instrument  of  Discipline 

2.  Differences  of  Organization 

3.  Disciplinary  Officers      

Teaching  Staff  

Appeals  to  Head-master 
Power  of  Corporal  Punishment 

Prefects 

in  Day  Schools  

in  Preparatory  Boarding  Schools 
in  Secondary  Boarding  Schools 

4.  Organization  of  Non-personal  Influences 

Games  ... 

in  Day  Schools 

in  Boarding  Schools  ... 
Use  of  Leisure  in  Boarding  Schools 
Material  Comfort 

5.  Tone  ot  the  School 

School-feeling  and  House-feeling  ... 


ISO 
180 
1S1 
181 
182 
184 
186 
186 
188 
188 
191 
191 
192 
193 
193 
196 
197 
200 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE   RELATION    BETWEEN    THE   SCHOOL   AND   THE   HOME. 


1.  Failure  of  the  Relation 

..     202 

through  Neglect 

..     203 

through  Interference 

..     204 

through  Incompatibility 

..     205 

2.   Duties  of  the  School 

..     206 

Intercourse  with  Parents     ... 

.     207 

xiv 


CONTENTS. 


Letters  to  Parents     ... 
Reports 

Text-Books     

Occupation  of  Leisure 
Employment  on  leaving  School 

3.  Duties  of  Parents 

in  Supporting  Authority  of  School 
in  not  Interfering  with  Organization 
in  Corresponding  with  Teachers    . . . 
in  Loyalty  to  their  Fellow-workers 
in  Physical  Care  of  the  Children 

4.  Boarding  Schools  and  the  Home 

Reports 

Visits  of  Parents 

Material  Conditions ... 


PAG  3 

209 
209 
212 
213 
215 
217 
217 
218 
219 
219 
220 
221 
221 
221 


CHAPTER  X. 


STIMULUS   AND   RESTRAINT. 

1.  Desired  Identification  of  Duty  and  Pleasure 

2.  Stimulus   ... 

Marks  for  Achievement 
Marks  for  Oral  Work 
The  Labour  of  Marking 
Marks  not  a  wholesome  Stimulus 

'  Stars  and  Stripes ' 

'  Romans  and  Carthaginians ' 

3.  Reward     ... 

Prizes  ... 
Promotion 
Offices  and  Duties 

4.  Restraint  and  Punishment 

Functions  of  Punishment 
Punishment  and  the  Offence 

Idleness 

Minor  Offences 

Copying 

Bullying 


•224 
226 
220 
226 
22S 
228 
229 
232 
233 
233 
234 
234 
234 
23r> 
236 
236 
239 
240 
243 


CONTENTS. 

XV 

PAGE 

Kinds  of  Punishment 

245 

Punishment  and  the  Offender 

247 

Motive 

248 

Law  and  Personality 

248 

Remorse  and  Repentance    ... 

240 

Expiation 

24") 

Coercive  Punishment 

251 

Abolition  of  Punishment  in  Schools 

252 

Index 


253 


-» 


CHAPTER   I. 


NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING. 

1.  No  statement  in  writings  on  education  is  more 
common,  or  meets  with  more  general  accept- 
and  Morality  ance»  than  that  the  aim  of  education  is 
wholly  moral,  and  consequently  that  all  its 
means  have  a  direct  moral  reference.  Thus,  Herbart 
writes :  "  The  one  and  whole  work  of  education  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  concept — Morality."  : 

Unless  an  unusually  extended  sense  be  given  to 
'  Morality,'  this  would  seem  to  limit  unduly  the  scope  of 
education.  Certainly  it  is  true  that  an  education  which 
had  no  ultimate  moral  aim  would  be  unworthy  the  name ; 
but  the  ultimate  aim  need  not  be  the  immediate  aim  in 
each  piece  of  the  educative  process.  When  we  look  at  the 
real  life  each  one  of  us  has  to  live  we  see  that,  though  a 
moral  quality  runs  through  it  all,  yet  many  of  its  aspects 
and  activities  are  not  primarily  moral;  and  that  even  in 
actions  which  are  primarily  moral  something  besides 
morality  is  needed.  As  Plato  long  ago  pointed  out  both 
will  and  capacity  are  necessary  if  one  would  perform  well 
any  of  the  functions  of  life.2 

1  Aesthetische  Darstellung  der  Welt,  p.  1, 

2  Rep.  I.  332-33-1. 

M.  D.  S.  1 


/ 


2  NATL  RE    CI'    MORAL    TRAINING. 

Now,  capacity  is  largely  a  matter  of  knowledge  and  skill, 
and,  as  such,  has  no  moral  quality :  it  may 

Morality  and  ^  exercised  with  either  a  good  or  a  bad 
Capacity.  .  .  ° 

motive,  with  a  desire  to  bring  about  a  good 

or  an  evil  result.  No  doubt,  as  knowledge  and  skill  can  be 
acquired,  he  who  would  do  well  his  duty  in  the  world 
should  set  himself,  so  far  as  his  powers  and  opportunities 
permit,  to  develop  capacity  in  any  form  of  activity  he- 
proposes  to  undertake.  Still,  this  moral  obligation  is  as 
independent  of  the  nature  of  the  knowledge  and  skill 
acquired  as  is  the  motive  with  which  the  capacity  is 
exercised. 

If  the  capacity  has  not  been  acquired  the  work  done 
cannot  be  good,  no  matter  how  excellent  may  be  the 
intention.  A  carpenter,  for  instance,  must  have  knowledge 
and  skill  in  carpentry  as  well  as  a  praiseworthy  desire  to 
do  his  work  well,  or  his  dealings  with  wood  will  not  be 
satisfactory  to  those  who  employ  him.  Nor  should  we  be 
satisfied  to  be  treated  in  illness  by  a  physician  whom  we 
knew  to  be  professionally  incompetent,  no  matter  how  sure 
we  might  be  of  his  single-hearted  devotion  to  the  task  of 
curing  us.  Rather,  indeed,  would  we  call  in  a  more  skil- 
ful, even  if  less  saintly,  practitioner,  who  would  care 
nothing,  it  may  be,  for  us  or  for  our  recovery  except  as 
means  of  increasing  his  personal  fame  or  wealth.  And  we 
ourselves  must  recognise  that,  simply  from  want  of  capacity, 
there  are  many  things  which  we  do  badly,  and  many  more 
which  we  cannot  do  at  all,  though  it  would  be  well  if  we 
could  do  them.  It  is  a  teacher's  function  to  train  his 
pupils  well:  he  may  earnestly  desire  to  fulfil  that  duty, 
and  yet  from  want  of  knowledge  and  skill  may  fail  in 
doing  it.  A  person  may  be  an  excellent  man  but  a  very 
bad  teacher,  yea,  even  a  bad  moral  educator ;  for  through 
want  of  capacity  he  may   simply   succeed  in   boring  his 


NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING.  6 

pupils  and  disgusting  them  with  morality  as  embodied  in 
his  worthy  but  ineffective  self. 

The  activities  of  life  have,  then,  aspects  other  than 
moral,  and  education  must  not  neglect  those  aspects. 
Facts  do  not  square  with  the  theory  that  education  is 
wholly  concerned  with  morality ;  and  this  is  only  another 
way  of  saying  that  the  theory  is  imperfect. 

Its  too  limited  nature  is  especially  obvious  when  we 
regard  that  instrument  of  education  which 

Molality  ^  *s  ^nown  as  teaching.  Teaching  means  the 
imparting  of  various  forms  of  knowledge 
and  skill.  Of  course,  if  these  capacities  are  to  be  exercised 
in  life  with  a  moral  purpose,  such  a  purpose  must  also 
enter  into  the  learning  ;  there  must  be  the  determined 
effort  of  each  pupil  to  do  the  best  that  in  him  liea,  an 
effort  not  likely  to  be  present  unless  the  teaching  makes  it 
evident  that  the  teacher  has  done  his  best  in  prepara- 
tion, and  is  doing  his  best  in  developing  the  capacity.  In 
other  words,  all  teaching  should  proceed  in  a  moral  atmo- 
sphere, just  as  all  the  capacities  of  life  should  be  exercised 
in  a  moral  atmosphere  ;  but  not  all  teaching  deals  directly 
with  morality  or  explicitly  trains  moral  judgment.  And 
certainly,  in  not  all  teaching  should  the  attention  of  either 
teacher  or  learner  be  concentrated  on  a  moral  result.  In  a 
lesson  on  arithmetic  or  geography  the  teacher's  aim  is, 
through  teaching  certain  arithmetical  or  geographical  facts, 
to  increase  his  pupils'  interest  in  arithmetic  or  geography, 
and  so  to  develop  their  capacity  for  dealing  with  arith- 
metical or  geographical  questions.  The  aim  of  the  pupils 
should  be  to  understand  and  to  learn  those  facts.  The 
direct  result  of  the  teaching  should  be  to  establish  certain 
arithmetical  or  geographical  relations  between  the  pupils 
and  the  world  around  them. 

That  this  may  be  secured  the  pupils   must  put  forth 


4  NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING. 

effort,  and  the  teacher  must  call  on  them  to  do  so ;  and,  if 
persuasion  fail,  even  constrain  them  "  with  the  intimation 
of  some  fear,  if  need  be."  *  This  putting  forth  of  effort  is 
moral.  But  it  is  virtuous  just  as  far  as  the  teacher  has 
not  so  to  constrain  it ;  consequently,  even  he  has  his 
attention  fixed  on  the  learning  as  learnins;  and  not  as 
moral  effort,  except  when  that  effort  is  partially  wanting. 
The  attention  of  the  pupil  must  obviously  be  fixed  on 
the  arithmetic  or  geography  to  be  learnt :  it  is  most  un- 
desirable for  his  moral  development,  as  well  as  for  the 
arithmetical  or  geographical  success  of  the  lesson,  that  he 
should  think  of  his  learning  as  an  effort  to  perform  a 
virtuous  act. 

Some  people,  however,  are  not  satisfied  with  this.  Thus, 
Mr.  Gi-ustav  Spiller,  in  a  paper  read  before  the  First  Inter- 
national Moral  Education  Congress,2  said:  "I  should  like 
to  .  .  .  plead  that  every  lesson  should  be  primarily  an 
ethical  lesson.  .  .  .  The  mathematics  lesson  should  be 
in  many  ways  an  ethical  lesson."  And  that,  not  merely 
indirectly  by  the  training  it  gives  in  exact  and  cautious 
thought,  but  directly :  "  We  suggest  ...  as  a  perfectly 
reasonable  course,  that  the  more  particularly  arithmetical 
or  mathematical  aspects  of  the  good  life  should  be  plenti- 
fully illustrated  in  the  lesson." 

But  no  matter  how  definitely  one  may  learn  to  gauge 
the  height  of  the  saint's  aspirations,  or  to  plumb  the  depth 
of  the  sinner's  iniquities ;  how  exactly  one  may  number 
and  weigh  and  measure  the  motives  which  prompt  conduct ; 
or  how  precisely  one  may  express  habits  as  recurring 
decimals — and  the  possibility  of  these  things  is  not  parti- 
cularly obvious — yet  when  the  expressions  are  found,  they 
belong  to  the  domain  of  mathematics,  not  to  that  of  ethics  ; 
the  relations  into  which  they  can  enter  with  each  other  are 
1  Milton  :   Tractate  on  Educatioyi.  2  Report,  pp.  141-143. 


NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING.  5 

mathematical  relations,  and  the  lesson,  if  truly  given,  is 
primarily  a  mathematical  lesson  after  all.  It  dors  not 
become  essentially  ethical  because  its  symbols  are  supposed 
to  represent  moral  values.  And  this,  besides  the  well 
known  fact  that  no  surer  way  of  boring  children  with 
morality  could  be  found  than  an  attempt  to  force  moral 
questions  into  the  subject-matter  of  every  lesson. 

From  such  an  obvious  exaggeration  the  much  more 
frequently  accepted  doctrine  that  history  and  literature 
should  be  taught  mainly  with  a  view  to  the  inculcation  of 
moral  lessons  differs  not  in  kind  but  only  in  degree.  It  is 
true  that  in  history  and  literature  may  be  found  "  en- 
samples  of  life  and  instruction  in  manners,"  but  these  are 
incidental,  and  their  moral  influence  is  great  in  proportion 
as  they  are  not  torn  from  their  context  and  exposed  to 
ethical  dissection.  To  select,  falsify,  or  colour  history  for 
the  sake  of  certain  moral  lessons  is  to  attempt  to  teach 
morality  immorally  ;  for  the  great  moral  lesson  which  the 
study  of  history  should  inculcate  is  that  truth  is  to  be 
sought  and  received,  in  despite  of  prejudices  and  prefer- 
ences. Similarly,  to  teach  literature  mainly  as  a  vehicle 
for  the  conveyance  of  moral  ideas  is  to  lead  one's  pupils  to 
set  up  an  erroneous  standard  of  literary  excellence  ;  and 
this,  too,  is  immoral.  For  it  is  of  the  essence  of  morality 
in  teaching  that  the  right  and  fit  relation  be  established 
between  the  mind  that  learns  and  the  matter  that  is  learnt. 
It  is  true  that  the  topic  of  some  literature  is  essentially 
moral,  and  in  that  case  the  teaching  has  an  obvious  moral 
aim  as  well  as  a  literary  one.  But  the  two  are  still  dis- 
tinct ;  it  is  simply  that  the  same  subject-matter  enters 
into  two  kinds  of  relations  with  the  mind.  In  much 
literature  no  such  moral  quality  is  prominent,  or  even 
present ;  it  is  pure  art,  appealing  wholly  to  the  aesthetic 
judgment.     To  teach  children  to  regard  such  literature  as 


6  NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING. 

necessarily  inferior  to  that  with  an  obvious  moral  lesson  is 
to  hinder  the  development  of  their  literary  capacity.  It 
may  even  induce  them  to  prefer  Martin  Tupper  to  Shelley. 

The  same  line  of  thought  applies  to  all  teaching.  In  all, 
the  direct  aim  is  the  establishment  of  some  relation  of 
intelligence,  skill,  and  purpose  between  the  child  and  his 
world.  That  thpsfijgla.tions  should  be  as  noble,  true,  good, 
aiuLluILjis.^possible  follows  from  the  conception  that  the 
whole  process  of  education  should  aim  at  making  the  most 
and^theJbest  of  each  individual  child.  And  this  is,  in  the 
widest  sense,  an  ethical  conception. 

It  appears,  then,  that  a  moral  purpose  underlies  the 
whole  of  teaching,  and,  further,  that  no  teaching  process 
can  operate  successfully  except  in  a  moral  atmosphere 
of  honest  and  strenuous  effort,  yet  that  the  immediate 
aim  of  much  teaching  is  not  moral.  On  many  of  the 
results  of  teaching  we  do  not  commonly  pass  an  ethical 
judgment.  We  do  not  say  that  an  arithmetical  process  is 
morally  good  or  bad,  but  that  it  is  arithmetically  right  or 
wrong.  And  we  acknowledge  that  arithmetical  lightness 
is  compatible  with  a  state  of  sin  as  readily  as  with  a  state 
of  grace.  The  accurate  division  of  spoil  between  successful 
burglars  may  be  both  arithmetically  blameless  and  morally 
culpable. 

Now,  teaching  is  the  specific  work  of  the  school.  Thus 
it  follows  that  the  relations  which  a  school  gives  most  of 
its  time  and  energy  to  establishing  are  those  which  are 
primarily  relations  of  capacity.  In  establishing  them, 
indeed,  it  aims  also  at  establishing  those  of  moral  purpose 
and  honest  effort,  but  it  does  this  indirectly  throng]  1  its 
influence  much  more  than  directly  through  its  teaching. 
The  purpose  and  the  zeal  are  placed  in  the  actual  acts  l»v 
which  the  various  capacities  are  acquired.  This  underlying 
purpose,  indeed,  is  ultimate  :  it  would  be  a  sorry  education 


NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING.  7 

which  trained  the  young  only  to  a  greater  capacity  in 
wickedness — to  be  clever  cheats  and  plausible  rogues.  On 
the  contrary,  the  school  tries  to  develop  intelligence,  skill, 
and  power,  essentially  that  these  may  be  worthily  used. 
Thus,  above  all  things,  it  aims  at  forming  purpose.  It  is 
in  this  sense  that  all  education,  whether  given  in  school 
or  elsewhere,  may  be  said  to  be  moral.  For  morality  is 
that  which  shapes  life's  ideals  and  which  regulates  conduct 
with  reference  to  the  more  or  less  adequate  realisation  of 
those  ideals. 

It  must,  however,  be  insisted  on  that  this  moral  purpose, 
if  it  is  to  be  effective,  must  generally  remain  an  underlying 
purpose.  Nothing  is  more  fatal  than  to  be  continually 
bringing  it  to  the  light  of  day,  and  calling  on  children  to 
admire  it :  the  immature  prig  is  not  in  the  direct  line  of 
development  towards  an  admirable  maturity.  Just  as  in 
life,  so  in  school,  effective  work  is  done  only  when  effort 
is  concentrated  on  the  doing  of  just  that  work ;  and  the 
essence  of  morality  for  each  one  who  has  a  general 
purpose  to  do  what  is  right  is  summed  up  in  the  in- 
junction :  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it 
with  thy  might." 

2.  It  follows  that  the  formation  of  a  good  and  effec- 
tive moral  atmosphere,  saturated  with  high 

the^ome°  auc^  no^e  amls  to  be  strenuously  pursued 
even  at  the  cost  of  much  self-denial  and 
even  self-sacrifice,  is  essential  to  a  moral  education.  From 
such  an  environment  children  will  inhale  moral  health  and 
strength  as  surely  as  they  will  inhale  physical  health  and 
strength  from  a  pure  and  stimulating  physical  atmosphere. 
The  most  characteristic  feature  of  the  child  mind  is  its 
assimilative  power,  so  that,  insensibly,  it  grows  like  its 
surroundings.  It  is  born  into  a  certain  religion,  a  certain 
conception  of  morality,  a  certain  set  of  thought,  a  certain 


8  NATURE  OF    MORAL  TRAINING. 

evaluation  of  life  and  of  the  elements  of  life,  a  certain 
general  attitude  towards  other  classes  in  the  community, 
as  surely  as  it  is  born  into  this  or  that  country,  town,  or 
village.  We  do  not  mean  that  it  inherits  all  these  things 
ready  made,  but  that  it  is  born  into  a  social  tradition,  not 
necessarily  all  formulated  in  law,  or  creed,  or  maxim,  but 
largely  an  unwritten  code,  yet  one  more  difficult  to  escape 
from,  because  of  its  very  vagueness,  than  if  it  were  em- 
bodied in  definite  enactments.  So  long  as  the  child 
remains  in  the  social  environment  into  which  it  is  born, 
that  tradition  will  surely  do  much  to  determine  the  general 
set  of  its  spiritual  and  intellectual  life. 

No  observer  can  deny  this,  and  to  grant  it  is  to  imply 
that  the  most  essential  and  influential  organ  of  education 
is  the  family ;  for  in  that  the  religious,  moral,  and  social 
environment  is  most  intimate  in  its  relations  to  the  child, 
and  is  most  persistently  exercised.  The  family  is  a  natural 
society,  in  which  all  are  held  together  in  the  bonds  of 
relationship  and  love,  of  dependence  of  children  on  parents, 
and  of  care  of  parents  for  children,  of  mutual  help  and 
common  interests.  In  it  most  of  the  relations  of  real  life 
play  their  part,  directly  or  indirectly.  The  child  joins  in  a 
very  considerable  number  of  activities,  and  he  hears  others 
discussed  in  the  family  circle.  The  influence  of  the  family 
is,  therefore,  enormous,  and  this  whether  the  parents  will  it 
or  do  not  will  it.  The  irreligious  or  immoral  home,  even 
the  careless  home,  is  not  simply  negative  in  education : 
its  influence  is  just  as  real,  and  just  as  persistent,  as  is 
that  of  the  good  home.  But  it  is  a  vastly  different  influ- 
ence. It  just  as  surely  determines  the  set  of  the  child's 
life,  but  it  determines  it  falsely.  In  this  respect,  indeed, 
the  careless  home  is,  in  some  ways,  worse  than  the  posi- 
tively immoral  home.  The  latter  may,  and  often  does, 
develop  strength  of  purpose,  though  it  sets  up  a  wrong 


NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING.  9 

ideal  as  the  goal  to  be  attained.  But  if  afterwards  the 
child  be  converted,  and  change  the  unworthy  into  a  worthy 
aim,  he  has  acquired  strength  of."  will  to  follow  out  liis  new 
path.  But  the  simply  careless} home  sets  no  purpose;  it 
forms  in  the  child  the  habit  of  undisciplined  living — of 
slouching  hither  and  thither  as  the  whim  of  the  moment 
leads  him,  and  so  becoming  increasingly  unfitted  to  act 
consistently  and  persistently  for  any  end  whatever. 

The  educative  influence  of  the  home  being  thus  strong 
and  inevitable,  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  parents 
should  recognise  their  responsibilities  and  not  allow  them- 
selves to  drift  into  supposing  that  they  can  delegate  their 
duty  to  the  school.  The  unhappy  custom  of  speaking  of 
education  as  synonymous  with  schooling  has  much  to  answer 
for  in  this  respect.  Compared  with  the  home  the  school  is  j 
an  extremely  artificial  society.  In  it  there  is  no  bond  of 
family  relationship  and  family  affection  with  all  that  that 
bond  implies.  At  the  best  there  is  the  bond  of  friendli- 
ness, tinctured  by  emulation  and  rivalry.  In  it  each  child 
is  valued  simply  for  his  power  to  make  himself  useful  and 
agreeable ;  his  faults  are  not  estimated  by  the  partiality  of 
a  parent  but  are  met  by  the  calm  justice  and  authority  of 
a  teacher.  Moreover,  its  relations  are  fewer  and  more 
regulated  than  are  those  of  the  home.  Thus  the  school  is 
limited  in  its  influence  by  its  own  character  as  well  as  by 
the  fact  that  it  is  only  one  among  many  societies  outside 
the  family  which  the  child  may  enter.  Religious  guilds. 
Cadet  corps,  Scouts'  patrols,  Boys'  brigades,  and  other  modes 
of  formal  association  with  his  fellows  may  call  him,  and 
each  influences  him.  There  is,  moreover,  the  very  real 
though  unsystematic  and  often  unintended  influence  of  his 
companions  in  the  playground  and  in  the  street.  But, 
underlying  all  is  the  continued  influence  of  the  home  tone 
and  the  home  life,  more  powerful  than  all.     The  school, 


10  NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING. 

therefore,  cannot  do  more  than  supplement  the  family  :  it 
can  never  take  its  place. 

3.  It  is  evident  that  the  best  educational  results  can 

be  secured  only  when  family  and  school 
Relation  work   in   harmony.      This    does   not   imply 

andWSchool°me  ^orma^  discussions  between  teachers  and 
parents,  though  free  and  friendly  intercourse 
is  desirable,  but  only  that  both  accept  and  act  on  the  same 
general  conceptions  of  life,  duty,  and  happiness. /The 
children  who  live  in  homes  ruled  by  high  ideals  of  lite  are 
the  moral  backbone  of  a  school.  When  the  home  is  care- 
less, or  even  positively  immoral,  the  school  has  to  attempt 
not  only  to  supplement  its  influence  but  in  some  ways  to 
negate  it.  And  in  every  class  in  every  school  are  to  be 
found  some  children  who  have  the  misfortune  to  be  mem- 
bers of  such  homes.  In  these  cases  it  is  evident  that  the 
most  effective  way  of  counteracting  the  home  influence  is 
not  by  a  direct  and  open  antagonism  to  the  opinions 
current  in  the  home,  but  by  a  gradual  habituation  of  the 
child  to  other  ways  of  looking  at  life,  to  other  estimates  of 
its  pleasures  and  pains,  to  other  conceptions  of  what  is 
worth  doing  and  worth  taking  trouble  to  attain^ 

4.  The  school,  then,  as  truly  as  the  home,  must  regard 

itself  as  an  instrument  of  moral  training, 
Jy!*1^1!?6  °f        though  its  means  may  be,  as  a  whole,  less 

direct  and  intimate  than  those  which  a  good 
home  can  adopt.  Yet  they  differ  in  degree  and  mode  of 
application  rather  than  in  kind.  /Xxs.  both  home  and  school, 
example  and  precept  play  their  part,  but  in  both  the  most 
potent  instrument  is  that  all-pervading  disciplinary  influ- 
ence of  the  moral  atmosphere  which  tends  to  form  the 
lives  of  those  who  are  immersed  in  it  long  enough  for  it  to 
effect  an  appreciable  result.  Thus,  from  an  educative 
point  of  view  the  tone  of  a  school  is  more  important  than 


NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING.  11 

its  teaching.  The  latter  may  be  good  and  the  former  l>;id  ; 
and,  conversely,  a  good  tone  may  coexist  with  poor  teach- 
ing. In  neither  case  have  we  a  really  good  school;  for  in 
neither  case  are  the  children  fitted  for  life  as  efficient lv  ;is 
possible.  In  the  latter  case  they  will  be  wanting  in  skill 
and  cultivated  capacity;  in  the  former  in  that  underlying 
morality  without  which  no  skill  or  capacity  is  of  real  and 
sterling  worth.  Thus,  the  two  defects  are  of  very  different 
moment.  The  latter  is  a  failure  in  the  accidentals  of  life ; 
the  former  in  its  essence.  Consider  the  following  extracts 
from  an  old  Report  on  Workhouse  Schools  by  the  late 
Mr.  Tufnell : 

"  The  most  remarkable  instance  that  I  know  of  the 
inefficiency  of  workhouse  education  is  the  case  of  the  Eton 
union,  which  deserves  to  be  mentioned  in  detail.  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  visited  a  school  which  passed  a  more  satis- 
factory examination,  or  more  calculated  to  please  the 
critical  eye  of  an  inspector.  Their  reading,  writing,  and 
arithmetic  were  nearly  faultless.  It  seemed  impossible  to 
puzzle  them  by  any  fair  question  upon  the  Bible,  English 
history,  geography,  grammar.  They  could  write  from  dic- 
tation or  memory  in  copper-plate  hand,  and  without  a  fault 
in  grammar  or  spelling.  They  could  sing  with  good  effect 
a  variety  of  songs  and  national  airs  in  three  parts.  .  .  . 

"  Any  one  reading  the  above  account  might  possibly 
conclude  that  the  school  was  perfection,  and  it  may  excite 
some  surprise  when  I  state  that,  on  close  examination,  the 
school  appeared  in  so  unsatisfactory  a  condition  that  it 
was  determined  to  break  it  up,  and  send  all  the  children  to 
the  Central  London  district  school,  where  they  n<  »w  are  ;  and 
I  fully  concurred  in  this  decision  of  the  guardians.   .  .  . 

"It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that,  while  I  am 
writing  this  report,  the  Windsor  union,  which  adjoins  the 
Eton,  should  have  suddenly  presented  an  instance  even 


12  NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING. 

still  more  lamentable  than  at  Eton,  of  the  combination  of 
great  intellectual  excellence  with  great  moral  depravity. 
It  had  only  been  lately  placed  under  my  inspection,  and 
consequently  I  had  only  examined  it  once,  when  it  passed 
an  examination  in  every  subject,  more  especially  scriptural 
knowledge,  that  few  schools  could  equal.  It  has  been 
proved  that  the  grossest  possible  immorality  had  been 
going  on  in  it  for  years,  on  the  discovery  of  which  the 
master  instantly  committed  suicide.  A  gentleman,  per- 
fectly well  acquainted  with  it,  and  who  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  frequently  visiting  and  examining  it  for  several 
years,  writes  thus  : — '  I  never  remember  to  have  been  in  a 
school  which  came  nearer  to  my  idea  of  perfection.  The 
manners  of  the  boys,  their  bright  intelligence,  their  won- 
derfully accurate  scriptural  knowledge,  surprised  and 
delighted  me ;  then  comes  the  crushing  blow,  to  bid  me 
distrust  the  fairest  outward  show.'  "1 

Such  a  record  of  fact,  now  so  long  past  that  its  recall 
can  touch  no  susceptibilities,  brings  home  to  us  as  no 
theoretical  considerations  can  do  that,  though  the  school 
should  not  be  always  preaching  morality  in  so  many  words, 
yet,  if  it  do  not  exercise  a  strong  moral  influence,  no 
matter  how  excellent  its  intellectual  results  may  be,  it 
becomes  a  positive  instrument  of  evil.  It  still  trains  its 
pupils,  indeed,  but  it  trains  them  not  for  weal  but  for  woe. 

5.  We  see,  then,  that  the  influence  of  a  school,  like  that 
of   a   home,    may  be   good   or  bad,  and   of 

TrSninjf0™1  course  **  may  ^e  °^  ail7  intermediate  charac- 
ter. It  is  good  only  when  it  seeks  a  right 
end  by  right  means.  In  order  that  it  may  have  a  right 
end,  consideration  must  be  given  to  the  kind  of  product  it 
should  aim  at  forming.  And  in  order  that  the  means 
may  be  right  they  must  be  planned  with  direct  reference 
1  Report  of  the  Committee  of  Council  on.  Education,  18G2-3,  p.  338. 


\ 


NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING.  13 

both  to  that  end  and  to  the  nature  of  the  child  in  whom  it 

is  to  be  realised. 

The  end  is  commonly  said  to  be  the  development  of  the 
good  character,  or,  simply,  of  character.  Of  course,  if  we 
use  'character'  widely  enough  this  is  satisfactory,  but  it 
lies  open  to  misapprehensions  similar  to  those  which  beset 
the  statement  that  the  sum  of  all  education  is  morality. 
Moreover,  character  is  essentially  an  individual  matter, 
and  to  fix  the  attention  on  that  is  apt  to  lead  to  neglect  of 
the  essential  fact  that  a  character  in  action  is  a  life,  and 
that  every  piece  of  life  is  a  relation  between  an  individual 
and  some  part  of  his  surroundings.  The  conception  of 
education  is  narrowed  when  the  process  is  thought  to  be 
concerned  with  only  one  of  the  two  terms  of  these  relations. 
And  an  under-estimation  of  the  importance  of  the  effects 
of  an  act,  as  distinct  from  the  motives  which  prompted  it, 
is  likely  to  follow.  We  are  apt  to  say  not  only  that  there 
is  no  morality  apart  from  a  good  will,  but  that  a  right 
intention  makes  an  act  good,  no  matter  how  disastrous 
may  be  its  consequences. 

To  avoid  this  narrow  individualistic  implication  it  has 
been  suggested  that  the  aim  of  education  should  be  stated 
as  the  true  development  of  personality.  For,  it  is  urged, 
personality  means  the  whole  of  an  individual,  and  not 
simply  the  directly  moral  part  of  him,  to  which  'character' 
is  often  restricted.  Further,  the  development  of  personality 
implies  the  development  of  the  individual's  relations  to 
the  world  around  him,  for  only  in  such  relations  can  his 
innate  tendencies  and  impulses  find  vent,  and  only  as  they 
find  vent  do  they  weave  themselves  into  the  texture  of  the 
growing  personality.  This  is  all  true,  and  the  only  ob- 
jection to  this  form  of  stating  the  general  educative  aim  is 
that  it  departs  somewhat  from  the  conventional  use  of  the 
word  '  personality.'     For  that  term  is  usually  held  to  imply 


14  NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING. 

■ 

something  not  only  distinctive  but  impressive  in  an  indi- 
vidual ;  so  that  of  a  commonplace  person  we  feel  at  liberty  to 
say  that  he  is  wanting  in,  or  even  devoid  of,  personality. 

But  if  it  is  difficult  to  find  a  single  word  which,  without 
violent  treatment,  expresses  the  educative  aim  unam- 
biguously and  completely,  yet  it  is  easy  enough  to  see 
that  the  desired  term,  if  found,  would  imply  that  educa- 
tion aims  at  leading  each  individual  to  live  the  best  and 
fullest  life  possible  to  him,  with  his  inborn  limitations  of 
nature  and  his  actual  and  potential  limitations  of  circum- 
stances. That  he  may  do  this  he  must  learn  to  select  his 
forms  of  activity — that  is,  the  possible  relations  with  his 
world  which  he  will  make  actual — and  to  harmonize  these 
according  to  a  definite  purpose  or  main  end  in  life,  which 
must  itself  be  full  and  true  and  good. 

Much  of  this  organization  of  life  grows  up  unconsciously, 
and  is  determined  by  the  very  surroundings  on  which  it 
works.  The  whole  of  life  is  a  never-interrupted  reaction 
between  the  individual  as  he  is  and  the  world  in  which  he 
lives,  without  which  he  could  not  even  exist,  and  which  is 
to  him  what  it  is  because  of  the  workings  upon  it  of 
his  own  consciousness  and  activity.  By  such  reaction  he 
grows  from  what  he  is  to  what  he  becomes.  So  his  world 
— using  the  term  to  denote  all  thakdnfluences  him — helps 
to  form  him  ;  and  the  school  is  no  unimportant  part  of  the 
child's  world.  Thus,  the  character  of  the  school,  by  deter- 
mining the  form  of  that  important  part  of  his  surroundings, 
is  a  powerful  influence  in  determining  his  development. 

6.  In  every  relation  into  which  an  individual  enters  with 
his  surroundings  there  are  present  three 
Relations  factors,  though  in  very  various  degrees  of 

and  World  prominence — those  of  will,  feeling,  and  in- 

telligence. It  is  to  the  establishment  of  the 
last  of  these  that  most  school  teaching  obviously  directs 


NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING.  15 

its  energies ;  but  it  fails  unless  at  the  same  time  it  brings 
out  relations  of  volition  and  of  emotion,  at  least  in  the 
forms  of  interest  and  desire.  School  discipline,  on  the 
other  hand,  aims  primarily  at  establishing  relations  of 
will,  but  it  also  fails  in  direct  proportion  as  it  omits  to 
form  relations  of  feeling  and  of  intelligence.  A  dead 
mechanism  of  conduct  is  not  the  aim  of  discipline,  even 
were  it  an  end  which  could,  in  any  fullness,  be  realised. 
Similarly,  the  social  life  of  the  school  makes  for  the 
establishment  of  relations  of  feeling — of  affection,  anti- 
pathy, emulation,  and  the  like.  But  these  also  are  worth- 
less except  so  far  as  they  are  steadied  by  will  and  guided 
by  intelligence. 

Moral  training  is,  then,  effected  through  the  establish- 
ment of  relations  with  the  world,  in  which  each  of  these 
factors  plays  its  appropriate  part. 

In  thus  analvsing  the  nature  of  the  relations  we  have 
restricted  attention  to  the  personal  or  subjective  side  :  we 
were  dealing  with  the  mode  of  reaction  evoked  in  the 
individual  entering  into  the  relation.  But  in  every  relation 
there  is  also  the  other — the  objective— term.  It  is  sufficient 
to  analyse  this  into  the  human  and  the  non-human.  Under 
the  former  we  include  the  whole  world  of  humanity  and  of 
human  products ;  not  only  men,  women  and  children,  but 
books,  pictures,  laws,  institutions  ;  everything,  indeed,  in 
which  human  activity  has  found  expression.  But  such  ex- 
pression is  obviously  often  in  material  form  :  for  example, 
a  statue  is  marble  or  bronze,  or  some  other  non-human 
substance.  It  is  possible  to  enter  into  relations  with  such 
things  merely  as  material :  to  estimate  the  worth  of  a 
statue  by  its  weight,  and  of  a  picture  by  its  size.  On 
the  other  hand,  one  may  pierce  through  the  material  veil 
to  the  indwelling  spirit,  and  so,  through  the  medium  of 
the  non-human,  enter  into  living  and  life-giving  relation 


16  NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING. 

with  another  human  soul.  The  innate  power  to  do  this 
varies — we  call  it  the  divine  gift  of  imagination — but  it  is 
always  capable  of  cultivation,  and  one  great  aim  of  school 
teaching  should  be  to  help  the  pupils  to  pierce  the  material 
embodiment  and  thus  to  enter  into  relations  warmed  and 
vivified  by  feeling  and  vitalised  by  volition ;  and  not 
simply  those  of  cold  intellectual  understanding,  with 
volition  and  feeling  limited  to  its  outlook  and  exercised 
only  in  the  attempt  to  understand. 

In  some  degree,  indeed,  as  has  already  been  said,  the 
three  subjective  factors  are  present  in  every  relation,  but 
they  may  be  not  only  differently  emphasized  but  differently 
grouped.  Thus,  intelligence  may  dominate,  and  volition 
and  feeling  be  its  handmaidens,  and  simply  further  the  act 
of  understanding.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  volition  and 
feeling  may  be  evoked  with  the  understanding  and  reach 
forth  to  that  which  is  the  object  of  the  understanding,  so 
that  it  in  itself,  and  not  the  mere  understanding  of  it, 
becomes  the  object  of  desire  and  pursuit.  For  example, 
in  teaching  the  passage  from  Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the 
King  which  describes  how  Sir  Bedivere  threw  away  the 
sword  Excalibur,  one  teacher  may  concentrate  attention  on 
the  grammatical  and  metrical  aspects  of  the  poem,  discuss 
such  questions  as  alliteration  and  consonance  of  sound 
with  sense,  but  fail  utterly  to  evoke  a  feeling  of  reverence 
for  duty  and  of  sympathy  with  one  struggling  with  temp- 
tation and  at  last  overcoming.  Another  teacher  may 
succeed  in  this  more  important  aim  of  the  lesson,  and  that 
all  the  more  surely  in  that  he  makes  no  explicit  mention  of 
these  things,  demands  no  formulation  by  the  class  of  the 
ethical  lesson  to  be  gathered  from  the  incident,  but  simply 
by  the  contagion  of  his  own  moral  enthusiasm  inspires  a 
like  enthusiasm  in  his  pupils.1     Whenever  the  objective 

1  Cf.  pp.  5-6. 


NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAININ'..  17 

term  of  the  relation  is  of  moral  worth  this  is  evidently  the 
result  at  which  to  aim.  Generally,  it  is  only  when  the 
spiritual  is  found  behind  the  material  that  the  objective 
side  of  the  relation  lias  educative  value.     And  only  when 

teaching  moves  in  an  atmosphere  of  vital  influence  can  it 
at  all  succeed  in  thus  raising  the  pupils'  souls  from  earth 
to  heaven. 

7.  Individuals  differ  both  in  their  original  temperaments 

— whether  their  relations  with  the  world  air 
lEndTviduaUli?yd   predominantly  marked  by  volition,  feeling, 

or  understanding — and  also  in  the  objects 
with  which  they  are  most  prone  to  enter  into  relations. 
When  we  add  to  these  complications  all  those  due  to  the 
special  circumstances  in  which  each  life  is  lived  it  is  plain 
that  each  individual  will  differ  from  every  other  in  many 
ways.  It  is,  then,  a  fundamental  necessity  for  education 
to  decide  its  attitude  towards  this  fact  of  difference. 

When  it  is  said  that  education  should  develop  the  good 
character,  it  seems  rather  to  be  implied  that  there  is  one 
definite  and  fixed  form  of  human  excellence  to  which 
education  should  try  to  make  each  child  approximate. 
And,  no  doubt,  the  dealing  with  children  together  in 
classes,  often  too  large,  tends  to  stamp  on  them,  with  more 
or  less  success,  the  same  intellectual  hall-mark.  It  is  true 
that  an  attempt  to  make  all  alike  in  what  they  feel,  wish, 
and  think  can  never  wholly  succeed  ;  yet  it  may  easily  be 
pushed  too  far,  and  to  too  great  a  degree  aim  at  adapting 
the  child  to  his  environment  rather  than  at  enabling  him 
to  adapt  his  environment  to  his  own  needs,  so  far  as  such 
adaptation  is  consistent  with  recognition  of  the  right  of 
others  to  do  likewise. 

On  the  other  hand,  those  who  fix  their  gaze   too   ex- 
clusively on  the   subjective  side  of  the  relations  between 
the  child  and  his  world  are  apt  to  neglect  the  truth  that 
m.  d.  s.  2 


18  NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING. 

the  young  child  is  swayed  only  by  impulses  and  instincts. 
He  has  not  entered  into  enough  relations,  nor  made  those 
relations  into  which  he  has  entered  sufficiently  thorough, 
to  have  the  power  of  purposive  selection.  Unaided  he 
cannot  yet  "develop  on  his  own  lines,"  because  he  has  no 
real  lines  on  which  to  develop,  but  is  at  the  mercy  of  his 
surroundings,  carried  this  way  and  that  from  moment  to 
moment.  If  he  develop  on  those  lines,  indeed,  he  will 
remain  throughout  life  a  child  in  instability  of  mind,  no 
matter  how  fully  he  may  attain  the  bodily  stature  of  a 
man. 

Each  of  these  extreme  positions  is,  indeed,  a  half-truth ; 
and,  like  other  half-truths,  when  put  forward  as  the  whole 
truth  becomes  a  most  deadly  form  of  lie.  Neither  by 
insisting  exclusively  on  the  one  nor  on  the  other  term  in  the 
relation  between  child  and  world  is  the  secret  of  education 
to  be  found,  but  in  a  harmony  of  both.  To  what  extent 
such  harmony  is  established  in  a  school  is  the  fundamental 
test  of  its  work. 

We  see,  then,  that  while  we  cannot  have  a  fixed  mould 
of  good  character  into  which  to  run  the  fluid  spiritual  life 
of  every  child,  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  goodness  is  not  a 
vague  indeterminate  thing,  appearing  perchance  in  violently 
contrasted  and  incompatible  forms  in  different  individuals. 
The  general  term  '  good  character  '  is  no  more  devoid  of 
meaning  than  is  any  other  general  term,  such  as  '  man ' 
or  '  dog.'  It  implies  a  common  nature.  But  this  com- 
mon nature  exists  in  individuals  who  differ  from  each 
other  spiritually  as  they  do  bodily.  We  have,  therefore, 
to  enquire  into  what  our  general  concept  of  a  good  man 
involves,  and  into  the  kind  and  degree  of  variation  within 
that  general  concept  we  may  expect  and  accept. 

These  variations  will,  necessarily,  be  as  many  as  there 
are  individual  good  people.     But  they  will  group  more  or 


NATURE  OF  MORAL  TRAINING.  I'.» 

less  definitely  round  types, according  as  relations  <>i"  will, of 
feeling,  or  of  intelligence  predominate,  and  according  as  the 
external  circumstances  of  life  are  generally  similar.  They 
may,  therefore,  be  considered  theoretically,  though  these 
theoretical  considerations  will  be  of  no  avail  in  education 
unless  they  be  filled  in,  and  made  actual,  by  the  study  of 
individual  children.  And  each  child  must  be  studied  in 
his  actions.  So  far  as  these  depart  from  the  normal 
standard  there  is  an  obvious  call  for  special  enquiry  by  the 
educator  into  the  cause  of  the  variation.  So  far  as  they 
conform  to  the  normal  no  exceptional  treatment  is  de- 
manded. 

To  understand  the  child  the  first  great  question  is  as 
to  why  he  did  this  or  that.  This  is  commonly  called 
the  question  of  motive.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that 
with  children,  even  more  than  with  adults,  there  is  often 
behind  an  act  no  motive  at  all  in  that  strict  sense  of  the 
word  which  implies  a  clearly  conceived  and  desired  end 
prompting  the  action.  /  The  child  frequently  acts  upon 
impulse,  wholly  or  half  blind.  One  essential  task  of 
education,  and  a  task  only  to  be  accomplished  through 
discipline,  is  to  chain  such,  impulse  to  the  car  of  purpose ; 
to  secure  that  the  child's  will  is  aroused  and  fixed  on 
something  which  makes  for  righteousness.  This  it  must 
do  by  so  arranging  the  other  terms  of  the  relations 
which  make  up  the  child's  life  that  each  appeals  in  the 
desired  way  to  the  subjective  term.  In  a  word,  the 
aim  of  discipline  is  to  evoke  and  direct  will  and  desire,  and 
this  implies  encouragement  as  well  as  restraint.  If  this 
be  forgotten,  and  if  discipline  proceed  only  by  compul- 
sion from  without,  then  there  may  be  regulation  of  so 
much  of  the  outward  conduct  as  is  open  to  observation, 
but  there  is  no  harmonizing  of  outer  conduct  and  inner 
desire./  Often,  indeed,  an  opposition  is  set  up  between  the 


20  NATURE    OF    MORAL    TRAINING. 

two.  The  child  does  what  he  must,  but  he  hates  doiug  it, 
and  on  the  first  opportunity  he  will  do  the  exact  opposite. 
There  is  being  formed  in  him  a  double  personality :  the 
real  '  he '  is  hidden ;  the  apparent  '  he  '  is  a  more  or  less 
successfully  organized  hypocrisy.  But  when  the  pressure  of 
this  mechanical  discipline  is  withdrawn  the  real '  he '  comes 
to  the  surface,  and  the  well  conducted  and  obedient  school- 
boy blossoms,  with  a  rapidity  which  amazes  the  thought- 
less, into  the  mischievous,  if  not  positively  dangerous, 
hooligan.  Thus,  it  is  evident  that  unless  school  discipline 
affect  the  real  '  he '  it  fails  of  its  purpose,  and  then  the 
school  is  not  only  not  a  place  of  true  education,  but  even, 
in  its  own  despite,  is  a  powerful  influence  in  forming  a 
bad  character — bad  in  its  weakness  if  not  in  its  positive 
iniquity. 

8.  We  have,  then,  to  examine  the  two    sides   of   life- 
relations  as  seen  in  school.    We  shall  do  this 
Treatment         most  conveniently  by  looking  at  them  first 
mainly  from  the  subjective  side  as  making 
up  the  spiritual  life  of  the  child,  considering  how  that 
life  is  organized  into  habits  and  how  such  organization 
may  be  influenced,  and  enquiring  what  is  involved  in  the 
great  moral  concepts  of  duty,  virtue,  and  conscience.     We 
shall  then  turn  to  the  objective  side,  as   shown  in  that 
organized    school    community    in    which    the    individual 
spiritual  life  of  each  child,  so  far  as  he  or  she  is  a  school- 
boy or  school-girl,  develops,  and  ask  how  that  community 
should  be  ordered  so  that  it  may  play  its  appointed  part, 
and  the  means  by  which  it  may  make  its  stimulating  and 
restrictive  influence  most  effective. 


chapter  ir. 


IT  ABIT. 


1.  The  influences  which  surround  a  child  are  operatise 
in  the  formation  of  his  character  because  of 

HabT,of       that  inbom  Plastici*y oi  "■*■*»  whkh  lead8 

him  to  assimilate  his  desires,  feelings,  and 
thoughts  to  those  of  the  people  with  whom  he  is  brought 
into  constant  contact.  But  such  assimilation  is  never 
abject  copying,  for  each  child  has  an  inborn  nature  of  its 
own,  and  it  is  this,  and  not  a  mere  piece  of  passive  plasti- 
city, which  assimilates  itself  in  its  own  way  to  the  life 
around  it.  The  imitativeness  of  humanity  is  the  receiving 
and  carrying  out  of  suggestions,  and  that  carrying  out 
always  departs  more  or  less  widely,  and  it  may  be  very 
widely  indeed,  from  the  copy  from  which  the  suggestion 
was  derived.  Further,  there  is  no  indiscriminate  imitation 
by  a  child  of  all  that  surrounds  him,  but  only  of  that 
which  appeals  to  his  innate  nature.  Nor  is  the  imitation 
repeated  unless  it  gives  pleasure,  or,  in  other  words,  evokes 
desire  for  its  repetition.  Surroundings,  then,  are  effective 
in  proportion  as  they  enter  into  nascent  purposes. 

But  of  all  the  acts,  thoughts,  and  feelings  which  make 
up  the  experience  of  a  child  those  of  most  interest  to  him 
are  his  own.  A  similar  instinct  to  that  which  leads  him  to 
reproduce  in  his  own  life  and  in  his  own  way  the  acts, 

21 


22  HABIT. 

thoughts,  and  feelings  of  others  leads  him  to  reproduce  his 
own,  so  far  as  the  former  experience  of  them  proved  grate- 
ful to  him,  and  to  inhibit  their  recurrence  so  far  as  they 
proved  unsatisfying. 

Thus,  from  the  first  his  acts  begin  to  determine  his 
future  acts ;  his  vague  desires  to  form  his  more  definite 
desires  ;  his  inchoate  thoughts  to  shape  his  growing  know- 
ledge. Were  this  determination  absolute  there  would  be 
no  progress;  for  it  would  mean  that  the  soul  repeated 
again  and  again  a  tread-mill  round  of  embryonic  spiritual 
experiences  with  no  power  to  reach  out  into  fuller  and 
wider  relations  with  the  world  than  those  of  earliest  baby- 
hood. On  the  other  hand,  were  there  no  such  determina- 
tion then  also  there  could  be  no  soul-growth ;  for  the  soul 
would  always  have  to  be  beginning,  over  and  over  again, 
its  first  experiences,  never  knowing  that  they  had  been 
exoerienced  before. 

2.  We  have,  thus,  as  the  two  indispensable  factors  of 

growth  the  building  up  of  a  core  of  life  by 

Place  of  |2      organization  of   experience,  so  that  the 

Habit  in  Life.  &  .  .    r 

present  is  taken  up  into  the  past ;  and  the 

remoulding  of  the  present  by  this  very  process,  so  that 

what  I  am  now  is  not  a  mere  product  of  what  I  have  been 

up  to  the  present  moment,  but  it  is  that  product  infused 

by  a  present  purpose  which  looks  towards  the  future,  and 

which   may   be   in    essence   the   re-moulding — the    entire 

change  of   direction  even — of   the   general  trend  of   life. 

Man  is  never  the  absolute  slave  of  his  dead  past,  though 

its  tyranny  may  be  galling  and  may  be  found  increasingly 

difficult  to  escape. 

It  is  the  influence  of  the  past  in  determining  the  present 

which  is  known  by  the  general  name  of  habit.     No  fact  of 

life  is  more  generally  recognised  than  its  power.    "  Habit  is 

second  nature  "  and  "  Habit  is  ten  times  nal  are  "  testify  to 


HABIT.  23 

its  force,  while  "  Character  is  a  bundle  of  habits  "  expresses 
its  results.  On  the  other  hand,  a  vivid  realisation  of  the 
stagnation  which  the  exclusive  dominance  of  habit  induces 
has  led  such  revolutionary  reformers  of  education  as 
Rousseau  to  insist  that  "  the  only  habit  a  child  should  be 
allowed  to  form  is  to  form  no  habits."1 

The  last  is  a  paradox  not  to  be  taken  literally,  for  that 
would  be  both  physically  and  mentally  impossible,  but  it 
serves  as  a  warning — never  needless,  and  never  more 
needed  than  in  the  artificial  age  in  which  it  was  uttered — 
against  allowing  life  to  be  set  in  too  cast-iron  a  mould,  as 
if  the  highest  goodness  and  wisdom  of  which  any  one  of  us 
is  capable  had  already  been  attained,  and  nothing  were  now 
left  us  save  to  repeat  in  fresh  circumstances  the  same 
general  forms  of  activity  which  had  served  us,  more  or  less 
well,  in  the  past. 

We  cannot  accept,  then,  the  dictum  that  character  is  a 
bundle  of  habits  without  the  very  important 

XT     1   "+■  A 

Character  qualification  that  this  must  not  imply  a  fixity 

and  unchangeableness  of  character :  in  other 
words,  unless  in  the  bundle  of  habits  are  included  the 
important  habits  of  examining  our  habits  and  of  modi- 
fying or  changing  them  whenever  they  are  found  unsatis- 
factory. 

Further,  when  we  regard  habits  as  constituents  of 
character  we  are  obviously  not  including  under  the  term 
many  things  which  are  commonly  known  as  habits.  We 
speak  of  our  customary  modes  of  physical  activity  as 
habits ;  we  say  a  person  has  a  habit  of  eliminating  the 
letter  '  h '  from  his  spoken  discourse,  or  of  speaking  with 
an  ultra- refinement  which  amounts  to  affectation,  another 
has  a  habit  of  doing  this  or  that  with  his  hands  while 
talking,  one  does  everything  quickly,  another  slowly,  and 

1  Emile,  Book  I. 


24  HABIT. 

so  on.  Again,  all  forms  of  bodily  skill  are  physical  habits 
pushed  to  a  considerable  degree  of  automatism.  It  is 
evidently  not  habits  such  as  these  which  enter  into  the 
texture  of  character.  They  are  merely  results  of  a  train- 
ing of  the  body  as  an  executive  instrument  to  carry  out  the 
purposes  of  the  mind. 

The   habits   we     have   in  mind  are  rather  tendencies, 
resulting  from  the  past  life,  to  will,  to  feel, 

Habits  and  t  fljiok,  anci  therefore,  to  act,  in  certain 
Habitudes.  '  '     ,  ' 

ways  in  certain  circumstances.    Thus,  we  say 

one  child  has  a  habit  of  lying,  another  of  truth-telling ;  one 
has  formed  the  habit  of  smoking  cigarettes,  another  that 
of  reading  blood-curdling  fiction,  another  that  of  collect- 
ing butterflies  and  moths ;  one  that  of  falling  into  a  state 
of  intellectual  coma  immediately  we  begin  to  try  to  teach 
him  mathematics,  another  that  of  mental  alertness  when- 
ever the  lesson  is  of  a  mathematical  character.  All  such 
habitual  tendencies  of  thought,  feeling,  and  will,  are 
manifested  in  a  series  of  acts,  each  member  of  any  one 
series  differing  from  every  other  member,  yet  all  agreeing 
in  general  nature.  Thus,  a  boy  with  the  habit  of  lying  will 
"  swerve  from  the  truth  in  his  tale  "  in  many  and  various 
ways,  more  or  less  ingenious,  but  all  agreeing  in  the  general 
characteristic  that  they  do  knowingly  and  intentionally 
depart  from  the  truth.  When  we  speak  of  '  a  habit '  such 
a  series  is  apt  to  come  into  the  mind  rather  than  the 
general  tendency  of  which  it  is  the  expression  and  symptom. 
But  it  is  on  the  latter  we  wish  to  fix  attention.  It  may 
be  of  help  in  avoiding  ambiguity  if  Ave  speak  of  these 
general  tendencies  as  'habitudes,'  and  leave  'habit'  to 
denote  the  series  of  acts  in  which  the  habitude  shows  its 
existence. 

The  circumstances  call  into  activity  a  certain  habitude 
which  determines  the  kind  of  relation  with  them  into  which 


HABIT.  25 

the  individual  shall  enter,  and,  this  determination  once 
made,  the  actual  form  of  the  relation  is  decided  by  the  exact 
nature  of  the  circumstances.  The  bov  whose  habitude  it  is 
to  find  a  lie  "an  abomination  before  the  Lord,  but  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble  "  is  apt  when  in  difficulties  to  begin 
at  once  to  cast  about  for  a  lie,  and  only  to  use  deliberation 
to  compare  the  respective  merits  of  alternative  forms  of  false 
statement.  And  even  the  boy  with  the  habitude  of  telling 
the  truth  has  yet,  every  time  he  tells  the  truth,  so  to  choose 
his  words  and  form  of  expression  that  they  convey  the  true 
impression  to  the  mind  of  his  hearer.  This,  too,  is  a  work 
of  skill :  for  words  to  a  child  often  have  a  meaning  very 
different  from  that  which  the  same  words  convey  to  an 
adult.  We  are  apt  to  recognise  this  when  thinking  of  the 
difficulty  a  teacher  often  experiences  in  giving  his  pupils 
accurate  ideas  by  means  of  language,  but  to  ignore  it  when 
the  question  at  issue  is  the  converse  one  of  a  child's 
difficulty  in  getting  an  adult  to  see  exactly  what  he  means. 
Yet  it  is  as  true  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other. 

Habitudes,  then,  result  from  doing,  lead  to  doing,  and 

by  doing  are  always  growing,  for  the  forms 
Habitudes°  °^  doing  are  indefinitely  varied.      Obviously, 

then,  the  more  exercise  a  habitude  has  the 
stronger  it  grows  and  the  greater  share  it  has  in  deter- 
mining the  general  trend  of  the  life.  One-sidedness  of  deve- 
lopment means  that  certain  cognate  habitudes  dominate. 
Such  dominance  when  carried  to  an  extreme  becomes  a 
kind  of  madness,  like  the  mania  of  the  miser  for  hoarding 
money  of  which  he  makes  no  use,  and  which  is,  therefore, 
to  him  but  the  empty  simulacrum  of  money. 

A  habitude  is  a  great  propulsive  force,  so  that  it  tends 
to  hurry  us  on  to  meet  certain  more  or  less  familiar 
circumstances  in  the  old  familiar  way  in  which  we  have 
met  them  before,  without  giving  us  time  to  deliberate  on 


26  HABIT. 

whether  we  shall  so  act.  In  this  is  both  the  safety  and  the 
clanger  of  habit  as  a  factor  in  life,  and  of  habitude  as  a 
constituent  of  character.  So  long  as  the  habitude  makes 
for  righteousness,  and  the  circumstances  to  be  met  are  not 
unusual  in  their  moral  requirements,  it  is  quite  to  the  good 
that  we  act  at  once,  without  loss  of  time  and  energy,  and 
in  a  way  which  practice  has  rendered  skilful.  The  habitu- 
ally kind  and  sympathetic  man  will  avoid  wounding  feelings 
and  giving  offence  as  automatically  as  a  good  bicycle  rider 
will  avoid  obstacles  in  his  road ;  but  the  man  trying  to  be 
sympathetic  for  the  first  time  cuts  as  sorry  a  figure  for 
executive  skill  as  does  the  individual  trying  for  the  first 
time  to  ride  a  bicycle :  his  attempts  are  neither  more 
graceful  nor  more  successful  in  attaining  their  end.  Or 
again,  the  boy  with  a  strong  habitude  for  attending  to  his 
lessons  will  achieve  a  greater  result  with  less  stress  and 
with  more  satisfaction  to  himself  and  to  his  teachers  than 
lie  in  whose  mind  that  helpful  habitude  is  in  its  weakly 
infancy. 

It  is  only,  indeed,  when  a  mode  of  action  has  become 
habitual  that  it  has  attained  ease  and  skill,  and  this  is  as 
true  of  feeling,  thinking,  and  willing  as  it  is  of  bodily 
activities.  But,  unless  our  actions  are  well  done  our  lives 
are  more  or  less  ineffective.  Life  as  a  whole  is  as  truly  a 
work  of  art  and  of  skill  as  is  any  one  of  the  special  forms 
in  which  it  manifests  itself,  and  to  which  we  are  more 
accustomed  to  apply  such  terms  as  '  art '  and  '  skill.'  And 
skill  comes  only  with  practice,  while  art  is  skill  employed  in 
the  service  of  the  imagination.  Without  as  many  habitudes, 
therefore,  as  the  circumstances  of  life  demand,  our  lives 
must  show  themselves  awkward  and  ineffective:  we  arc 
moral  and  intellectual  bunglers. 

We  see,  then,  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  habitudes 
form   the    safety    of    character.     But   they  also  form  its 


HABIT.  27 

danger.  For  not  all  habitudes  are  good ;  and  bad  habi- 
tudes have  as  much  propulsive  force  as  those  which  are 
good.  As  they  generally  appeal  i<>  llie  lower  and  more 
animal  sides  of  our  nature  they  have,  indeed,  except  when 
hold  in  chetek  by  other  and  opposed  habitudes,  a  greater 
and  more  immediate  strength  ;  for  bodily  appetites  cry 
aloud  for  immediate  gratification,  and  one  who  has 
formed  the  habitude  of  following  their  lead  finds  himself 
in  the  midst  of  the  act  before  he  has  realised  what  he  is 
doing. 

Again,  habitudes  onlv  fit  us  to  deal  with  customary 
conditions.  When  the  circumstances  are  unusual,  there- 
fore, it  may  be  altogether  to  the  bad  to  be  hurried  by  a 
habitude  into  a  form  of  action  which  the  event  proves  to 
have  been  inappropriate  and  even  hurtful.  This  latter 
tendency  is  much  more  felt  by  people  who  are  naturally 
impulsive  than  by  those  who  are  by  nature  cautious  and 
deliberative.  The  remedy  is  to  cultivate,  first,  the  habitude 
of  moral  thoughtf  illness — that  is,  of  consideration  and  deli- 
beration when  such  is  needed — and,  secondly,  the  power  of 
judging  when  it  is  needed,  or  that  habitude  itself  may 
become  a  most  serious  hindrance  to  life,  showing  itself  in 
continual  hesitancy  and  indecision. 

It  is  clear  that  for  perfection  of  life  a  nice  balance 
must  be  maintained  between  excess  and  defect  of  habitua- 
tion. No  life  can  be  devoid  of  habits,  yet  there  may  be 
such  a  want  of  constancy  in  habit — that  is,  such  a  lack  of 
breadth  and  range  in  habitudes — that  the  life  is  vacillating 
and  ineffective.  On  the  other  hand,  there  mav  be  too  large 
a  number  of  stereotyped  modes  of  thinking  and  acting,  so 
that  the  life  may  become  narrow  and  wanting  in  flexibility, 
unable  to  meet  adequately  new  situations,  impervious  to 
new  ideas.  In  short,  a  mean  has  to  be  found  between  super- 
ficial dilettantism  and  hide-bound  pedantry. 


28  HABIT. 

3/ The  remedy  for  bad  habitudes  is  evidently  to  substi- 
tute   for  them   their    opposites,    for,    as    a 
Habitudes  habitude  is  a  trend  of  life  it  cannot  be  simply 

negated ;  it  is  impossible  to  excise  a  piece 
of  life.  All  that  can  be  done  is  to  alter  the  trend ;  that  is, 
to  replace  the  undesirable  habitude  by  one  which  is  incom- 
patible with  it.  And  this  is  no  light  taslv.'  The  original 
habitude  may  have  grown  up  in  secret,  as  it  were,  unin- 
tended and  uncriticized  by  the  soul  it  is  deforming ;  it 
may  have  sprung  from  unconscious  assimilation  of  the 
ways  of  some  of  those  around,  and  it  may  have  been 
indulged  till  it  has  attained  a  giant's  strength  before  its 
true  character  is  realised.  For  such  realisation  never  takes 
place  till  the  light  of  a  new  and  holier  purpose  is  turned 
upon  the  habitude.  That  is  to  say,  the  light  which  shows 
it  up  in  its  true  colours  comes  from  within,  not  from 
without.  Its  kindling  may  have  been  suggested  by 
another,  but  unless  it  is  lighted  by  the  soul  itself  no  true 
revelation  of  the  nature  of  the  bad  habitude  is  possible. 
The  new  purpose,  then,  which  exhibits  the  old  tendency  in 
all  its  naked  deformity  is  a  part  of  the  present  life ;  a  life 
which  condemns  the  past  and  therefore  sets  itself  to  follow 
a  new  direction  in  the  future. 

But  condemnation  is  not1  annihilation.  Overthrown, 
perchance,  for  a  moment  by  the  joy  of  the  new  enthusiasm, 
the  evil  habitude  will  later  on  spring  up  again  full  armed 
and  ready  for  the  battle.  For  war  there  must  be  between 
the  old  tendency  and  the  new  purpose  which  would  destroy 
it  and  turn  the  energy  it  pollutes  into  another  channel. 
Now  it  is  evident  that  the  stronger  the  new  purpose  the 
more  likely  it  is  to  prevail.  And  such  strength  is  not  mere 
emotionalism.  That  is  only  a  flash  in  the  pan,  and  when 
the  fire  among  the  thorns  it  has  kindled  is  burnt  out  the 
old  tendency  renews  its  sway  with  unabated  force.     Often, 


HABIT.  20 

indeed,  it  seems  that  its  strength  is  greater  than  ever,  for 
the  soul  is  discouraged   by  the  failure  of  its  attempt   at 

resistance,  ana*  in  the  dullness  of  the  reaction  from  the 
febrile  emotional  excitement  it  throws  itself  into  the  old 
and  familiar  way  of  escape.  The  true  strength  of  a  new 
purpose  is  found  in  a  will  moved  less  by  emotion  than  by 
intellectual  conviction,  though  the  impulsive  force  <>i' 
emotion  is  valuable  as  an  auxiliary.  This  may  make  a  less 
imposing  display  of  energy  at  first,  but  it  has  much  greater 
power  of  endurance.  In  overthrowing  an  evil  habit,  as  in 
meeting  any  other  form  of  temptation,  one  may  say  to 
the  soul  :  "  In  quietness  and  in  confidence  shall  be  your 
strength." 

But  the  final  victorv  is  onlv  assured  when  acting  on  the 
new  purpose  has  itself  become  habitual/  Then,  indeed,  the 
old  tendency  has  vanished.  For,  as  a  habitude  grows  In- 
activity, so  when  it  is  permitted  to  find  no  expression  it 
dies  of  inanition.  From  this  follows  directly  the  practical 
rule  that  when  we  would  replace  an  evil  habitude  by  a  good 
one  we  should  find  as  early  and  as  frequent  opportunities 
as  possible  of  acting  on  the  latter  and  negating  the  former. 
"  Strike  while  the  iron  is  hot  "  is  emphatically  applicable  to 
such  cases.  Act  while  the  fire  of  enthusiasm  for  the  new 
purpose  yet  burns  clearly;  and  act  frequently,  lest  that  fire 
prove  but  ephemeral.  For  while  the  purpose  is  new  it 
dominates  the  mind,  and  so  it  is  easy  to  keep  attention 
fixed  on  it  and  withdrawn  from  the  solicitations  of  the  old 
habitude.  And  in  this  fight  of  new  with  old  the  same 
sympathy  of  others  which  made  the  old.  strong  strengthens 
the  new.  So,  if  we  would  follow  out  our  new  resolutions 
we  should  seek  the  companionship  of  those  whose  lives  are 
set  according  to  such  habitudes,  and  avoid  that  of  those 
whose  influence  would  drag  us  back  into  the  old  rut. 

Similarly,  as  habitudes  find  expression  only  in  certain 


30  HABIT. 

circumstances  which  call  forth  the  habitual  response ,  so 
the  new  life  should  avoid  such  circumstances  in  its  environ- 
ment until  the  new  habit  has  been  firmly  established. 
4.  As  habit  is  the  influence  of  the  past  in  shaping  the 

present  it  is  evident  that  the  formation  of 
Habitudes  and  ^^  b  •  with  Hf  ifc  lf  Th  firgt  smile 
School  Life.  .... 

of  recognition  is  a  sign  that  a  habitude  of 

both  intelligence  and  feeling  is  already  operative :  the 
earliest  mark  of  preference  or  dislike  proves  that  a  habitude 
at  once  of  feeling,  of  willing,  and  of  intelligence  exists. 
Habits  and  habitudes,  then,  of  necessity  begin  in  the  home, 
and  the  earliest  habitudes  help  to  determine  those  formed 
later.  Throughout  childhood  the  home  remains  the  most 
intimate,  the  most  constant,  and,  consequently,  the  most 
powerful  influence  in  determining  both  the  general  nature 
and  the  particular  form  of  a  child's  habits  and  habitudes. 
He  lives  the  family  life ;  that  is  to  say,  the  likings,  aver- 
sions, desires,  modes  of  thinking  and  subjects  of  thought 
and  discussion  of  the  family  as  a  whole  become  more  and 
more  markedly  his  own.  The  first  trend  thus  given  to  life 
by  the  family  is  rarely  altogether  lost,  no  matter  what  may 
be  the  after  experiences./ 

When,  then,  a  child  'first  enters  school  he  brings  with 
him  nascent  habitudes  relating  to  every  side  of  his  young 
life.  Moreover,  the  home  habitudes  are  being  continually 
fostered  by  the  home  life,  lived  more  or  less  concurrently 
with  the  school  life.  Even  in  a  boarding  school  the  home 
life  reasserts  its  influence  fully  during  holidays,  and  to 
some  extent  maintains  it  during  term  both  by  home 
memories  and  by  letters  to  and  from  home.  Thus,  the 
school  has  to  deal  with  each  child  as  a  living  force  ex- 
pending itself  in  directions  and  ways  already  pre-determined 
in  part,  yet  susceptible  of  change.  The  child  is  neither 
"  clay   in  the  hands  of  the  potter "   to   be  moulded  into 


HABIT.  3] 

this  or  that  form   as   the  teacher  may   will,  nor  a   piece 

of  fatalistic  process  on  which  surroundings  can  have  no 

effect. 

Each  child  has,  moreover,  his  own  preformation :  each 

brings    habits   and   habitudes  more  or    less 
Extension  and     ,.„.  £  ,,  c  -,  ■  IV. 

readjustment     different  from  those  or  his  companions,     ror 

of  Home  Habi-    the  outlook  of  the  young  child  is  very  narrow : 
u      *  his    habitudes    have    been    formed    in   the 

family  circle,  and  his  hopes,  desires,  feelings,  and  thoughts 
cluster  round  those  persons  and  things  that  have  been 
familiar  to  him.  Consequently,  the  school  society  demands 
an  extension  and  a  readjustment  of  even  those  habitudes 
which  in  their  general  nature  are  appropriate  to  school  life, 
as  wxell  as  a  suppression  of  those  which  are  incompatible 
with  it.  The  difficulty  sometimes  found  in  making  this 
necessary  readjustment  is  largely  the  cause  of  that  feeling 
of  shyness  and  strangeness  which  is  often  so  painful  a 
feature  of  a  child's  first  adventure  into  the  wider  world  of 
school. 

The  child  has  to  enlarge  his  human  wrorld  and  at  the 
same  time  to  grow  accustomed  to  the  relations  which  will 
bind  him  to  his  newT  companions — relations  founded  in  a 
mutual  assertion  and  recognition  of  rights  and  obligations, 
but  often  in  deed  requiring  a  rough  and  ready  determina- 
tion of  where  obligation  ends  and  right  begins.  Of  such 
needs  the  child  had  felt  but  little  in  the  home :  the  habi- 
tudes relating  to  his  dealings  with  others  had  been 
essentially  those  of  affection  ;  often  of  fond  indulgence.  In 
the  school  these  have  to  be  replaced  by  relations  at  once  of 
cooperation  and  of  competition.  All  are  pursuing  the  same 
general  ends,  yet  doing  so  always  in  more  or  less  friendly 
rivalry.  All,  for  example,  desire  to  be  good  at  cricket, 
yet  each  is  emulous  of  each,  and  each  wishes  to  excel  all 
competitors.      So   with   lessons.      Emulative   cooperation 


32  HABIT. 

is,  thus,  an  inevitable  mark  of  the  life  of  a  school  whenever 
a  school  has  a  real  life. 

This  involves  the  development  of  several  habitudes  which 
have  a  value  far  beyond  school  life,  such  as 
Habitudes0  persistent  and  strenuous  exertion  directed 
towards  desired  ends ;  regularity  and  punc- 
tuality in  times  of  work ;  good-tempered  rivalry  with 
competitors ;  the  merging  of  narrow  self-interests  in  the 
wider  interests  of  team,  or  class,  or  school,  so  that  a  boy 
plays  for  his  side,  not  for  his  average — in  a  word  the  spirit 
of  sportsmanship.  The  relative  importance  attached  by 
the  school  to  the  various  forms  of  school  life — to  lessons 
or  to  games ;  to  this  or  to  that  kind  of  lesson  or  game — 
goes  far  to  establish  in  the  school  general  habitudes  of 
preference. 

Such  habitudes  as  have  just  been  glanced  at  are  cultivated 
by  every  good  school  in  every  aspect  of  its  life,  and  they 
can  be  developed  nowhere  else  to  the  same  extent  or  with 
the  same  ease.  The  school  is  regular  in  all  its  operations, 
and  this  is  favourable  to  the  rapid  and  firm  establishment 
of  habits  and  habitudes.  In  its  social  character  it  is  inter- 
mediate between  the  warmth  of  the  home  and  the  coldness 
of  the  great  world.  In  it  competition  exists  in  an  atmosphere 
of  friendly  cooperation,  so  that  we  may  speak  with  Vergerius 
of  school  emulation  as  "rivalry  without  malice."  In  the 
world  the  friendly  cooperation  is  frequently  absent,  and 
the  competition  is  often  fierce  and  unrestrained.  Such 
competition  is  bad  both  for  those  who  engage  in  it  and  for 
the  community  in  which  it  is  a  marked  feature  ;  it  destroys 
national  and  social  unity  and  it  engenders  bad  blood  between 
fellow-citizens.  The  more  successfully,  then,  the  schools 
can  form  the  habitude  of  friendly  competition  the  more 
hope  there  is  for  the  social  and  economic  future  of  the 
nation. 


habit.  33 

The  departments  of  school  life  most  efficacious  in  the 
formation  of  habitudes  among  its  pupils  are  its  lessons 
and  its  games,  for  in  these  the  regularity  of  the  school 
organization  is  most  distinctly  felt.  In  the  latter  are  more 
particularly  developed  such  habitudes  as  those  of  working 
in  cooperation  with  others,  of  willing  submission  to  the 
authority  of  those  who  in  other  spheres  of  school  activity 
may  be  only  equals  or  even  inferiors,  of  bearing  discomfort 
uncomplainingly,  of  sacrificing  private  inclination  to  public- 
need  ;  in  short,  the  habitudes  of  social  cooperation,  self- 
control,  and  physical  endurance.  Of  course,  such  habitudes 
as  these  could,  theoretically,  be  cultivated  elsewhere — in 
athletic  clubs  and  associations ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  only  practicable  association  for  games  for  the  majority 
of  children  is  the  school.  Consequently,  a  school  which 
neglects  to  make  games  an  integral  part  of  its  life  fails  in 
its  duty ;  for  it  neglects  to  do  all  that  in  it  lies  to  develop 
habitudes  which  are  universally  needed  in  life,  and  which 
cannot  practically  be  well  developed  elsewhere. 

On  the  side  of  lessons  schools  have  generally  recognised 
their  duty.  The  specific  work  of  the  school  is  teaching : 
unfortunately  that  is  in  practice  too  often  taken  to  mean 
that  the  school  gives  the  whole  of  its  education  through,  or 
in  connexion  with,  teaching.  From  our  present  point  of 
view  we  must  consider  teaching  as  the  formation  of  intel- 

CD 

lectual  habitudes.  Now,  a  habitude  is  a  propulsive 
tendency  to  act  in  a  certain  way  in  appropriate  circum- 
stances ;  consequently,  an  intellectual  habitude  is  such  a 
tendency  to  engage  in  a  definite  form  of  intellectual  activity. 
The  formation  of  such  habitudes  is  the  task  teaching  should 
aim  at  accomplishing.  Its  means  are  regular  lessons  on 
certain  subjects  more  or  less  skilfully  adapted  to  the  needs 
and  capacities  of  the  children.  The  very  regularity  of  the 
recurrence  of  these  lessons  goes  to  form  the  outward  habit 

M.  D.  S,  3 


34  HABIT. 

of  study.  But  uuless  there  is  being  formed  at  the  same 
time  the  inward  set  of  thought,  feeling,  and  desire  towards 
the  increase  of  knowledge  in  that  particular  line,  no  habitude 
is  being  developed.  A  mental  habitude  as  a  propulsive 
intellectual  force  always  involves  a  purpose  in  the  sense 
that  it  is  an  activity  directed  towards  a  recognised  end. 
When  the  purpose  itself  is  recognised  as  such,  and  the  end 
becomes  a  distinct  object  of  desire,  the  habitude  takes  on  a 
higher  form :  it  is  conscious  of  itself  and  of  its  meaning, 
and  the  whole  of  its  propulsive  force  is  exerted  with  more 
intelligence  and  more  effect. 

Thus  the  distinction  between  those  inner  trends  of  the 
spiritual  life  which  we  have  called  habitudes  and  the  out- 
ward regularity  of  acts  known  as  habits  is  fundamental. 
The  existence  of  a  habit  is  evidence  of  the  existence  of  a 
habitude  only  when  the  habitual  acts  are  purely  voluntary  : 
a  forced  uniformity  of  conduct  is  no  proof  whatever  of 
that  moulding  of  the  mental  and  spiritual  life  which  alone 
is  of  educational  worth.  So,  when  the  pupils  of  a  school 
discontinue  all  their  studies  immediately  the  compulsion  of 
school  is  removed,  that  school  stands  condemned.  It  has 
evidently  failed  to  form  mental  habitudes  from  which  are 
evolved  intellectual  purposes.  Such  a  failure  is  generally 
irremediable :  for  unless  a  child  contracts  intellectual 
habitudes  in  school,  in  the  great  majority  of  cases  he  will 
go  through  life  intellectually  blind  and  halt  and  maimed. 

We  saw  in  the  first  chapter  that  no  relation  of  an  indi- 
vidual with  his  world  can  be  entirely  intellectual.  In  other 
words,  an  intellectual  habitude — which  is  a  propensity  to 
enter  into  certain  relations  with  particular  parts  of  the 
world — is  also  a  habitude  of  feeling  and  willing.  Without 
this  the  transformation  of  a  habitude  into  a  conscious  pur- 
pose would  be  impossible  ;  for  such  transformation  involves 
the  emphasis  of  just  those  relations  of  interest  and  desire. 


HABIT.  35 

We  adopt  as  a  definite  purpose  only  that  winch  we  consider 
worth  pursuit,  and  the  very  meaning-  of  purpose  is  that  it  is 
an  ideal  end  set  up  by  the  will  to  be  realised  by  our  efforts. 
In  acquiring  a  real  intellectual  habitude,  then,  a  child 
develops  at  the  same  time  the  moral  habitude  of  working 
with  a  will  for  that  which  he  thinks  worth  while.  And  it 
must  be  noted  that  this  habitude  is  wider  than  any  of  the 
special  habitudes  with  which  it  is  connected.  That  would 
be  a  poor  and  meagre  life  which  held  but  one  interest.  It 
is  also  a  habitude  which  is  cultivated  by  the  school  games, 
and  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  most  valuable  which  a  school 
can  develop  in  its  pupils.  Further,  it  should  be  noted 
that  while  the  narrower  specific  habitudes  grow  into  con- 
scious purposes  this  should  remain  a  force  to  which  atten- 
tion need  not  be  specifically  directed :  its  function  in  life  is 
essentiallv  executive. 

In  the  next  place  we  must  recognise  that,  in  addition  to 

these  positive  functions  in  the  formation 
JJe^ion  and  development  of  worthy  habitudes,  every 

school  must  essay  the  yet  harder  task  of  ne- 
gating bad  habitudes.  In  every  class  in  every  school  are 
to  be  found  children  in  whom  bad  habitudes  have  taken  a 
firm  root.  Many  of  these  yield,  slowly  it  may  be  but  surely, 
to  the  general  disciplinary  influence  of  the  school.  When, 
indeed,  the  acts  in  which  the  evil  habitudes  find  expression 
are  both  forbidden  by  the  school  law  and  discouraged  and 
condemned  by  the  public  opinion  of  the  school,  the  indivi- 
dual soon  discontinues  them.  It  is  wonderful  how  quickly 
in  such  cases  children  adapt  their  views  as  well  as  their  acts 
to  those  of  their  school  companions  in  matters  on  which 
they  have  no  strong  prepossessions,  especially  when  there 
is  no  positive  cultivation  of  the  old  habitude  at  home. 
When  school  law  and  school  opinion  are  not  agreed  the 
case  is  more  difficult,  and  must  be  considered  later. 


36  HABIT. 

But,  though  the  school  discipline  may  be  general  in  its 
exercise,  it  cannot  but  be  particular  in  its  application. 
Each  child  presents  to  the  teacher  a  new  problem  to  be 
solved.  It  may  largely  be  solved  by  general  rules  :  in 
discipline  as  in  teaching  it  is  usually  possible  to  deal  with 
many  minds  at  once,  each  receiving  and  profiting  by  just 
that  which  it  is  fitted  to  receive  and  to  find  profitable.  All 
the  effect  of  discipline,  as  of  teaching,  is  thus  found  in 
individual  minds,  and  is  an  individual  effect.  Though 
working  mainly  by  general  means,  therefore,  the  teacher 
must  keep  his  eye  on  individual  results,  and  this  means 
that  discipline  must  sometimes  be  brought  to  bear  in  a 
special  way  on  special  cases.  Such  special  treatment  is 
usually  called  for  in  the  treatment  of  bad  habits  and  evil 
habitudes  when  the  general  discipline  has  not  succeeded  in 
evoking  the  purpose  of  amendment. 

It  has  been  seen  that  the  order  of  spiritual  development 
is  from  habit,  through  habitude,  into  pur- 
School  pose.    What  are  usually  called  '  good  habits,' 

Formative^  ^na^'  *s'  aPProye<^  modes  of  outward  conduct, 
of  Purpose.  are  of  no  value  unless  they  indicate  the 
growing  power  of  a  disposition  to  act  well 
— a  disposition  which  reflexion  may  convert  into  definite 
purpose.  The  ambiguity  with  which  the  word  '  habit '  is 
used  has  led  to  much  confusion  on  this  subject,  and  has 
had  the  disastrous  result  of  an  over-emphasis  of  the 
regulation  of  outward  conduct  and  a  tendency  to  satis- 
faction when  that  is  not  known  to  be  blameworthy — a 
satisfaction  often  rudely  destroyed  by  the  conduct  of  the 
boy  or  girl  but  recently  freed  from  school.  In  the  school, 
as  in  life,  good  outward  conduct  is  of  worth  just  so 
far  as  it  is  the  manifestation  of  a  healthy  spiritual  life] 
The  whole  matter  was  well  put  by  Castiglione  nearly  four 
hundred  years  ago  :    "  For  as  the  virtue  of   the  mind  is 


HABIT.  ^7 

made  perfect  with  learning,  so  is  the  civil  with  custom. 
Therefore  ought  there  to  be  aground  made  first  with  custom, 
which  may  govern  the  appetites  not  yet  apt  to  conceive 
reason:  and  with  that  good  use  lead  them  to  goodness: 
afterwards  settle  them  with  understanding,  the  which 
all  hough  she  be  last  to  show  her  light,  yet  doth  she  the 
more  perfect  1\  make  the  virtues  to  be  enjoyed  of  whoso 
hath  his  mind  well  instructed  with  manners,  wherein  (in 
mine  opinion)  consisteth  the  whole."  l 
y-/lt  is  evident  that  if  school  training  forms  habitudes  and 
if  habitudes  develop  into  purposes,  those  purposes  will  be 
reflexes  of  the  principles  on  which  the  school  training  is 
based.  But  the  purposes  the  school  wishes  to  inspire  are 
those  generally  accepted  by  civilised  mankind  as  good  and 
worthy.  Thus,  it  follows  that  the  principles  which  regu- 
late school  training  should  be  those  of  general  morality. 
Each  pupil  can  accept  these  only  in  a  way  adapted  to  his 
own  needs  and  to  his  own  powers.  Hence,  the  moral 
principles  should  find  expression  in  the  school  discipline  in 
a  way  sufficiently  general  to  admit  of  such  varied  applica- 
tion. In  other  words,  the  discipline  itself  should  be  as 
general  in  its  operation  as  is  consistent  with  efficiency". 
These  are  the  general  results  reached  by  a  consideration  of 
habitudes  and  purposes  in  relation  with  training.  They 
will  be  developed  at  length  in  the  later  chapters. 

1  //.  Cortojian'o,  Bk.  IV.  (Hoby's  Translation). 


CHAPTER  III. 


DUTY. 


1.  The  moral  aim  of  education  is  to  train  the  young  so 
that  moral  truths  may  become  to  them  prin- 
and  Duty.  ciples  of  action.     This  goes  beyond  habitude, 

for  it  implies  that  regulative  canons  of  con- 
duct are  accepted  as  authoritative,  and  that  this  is  done 
independently  of  the  impulses  or  desires  of  the  moment. 
It  is  a  recognition  that  life  involves  obligations  :  that  there 
are  things  which  ought  to  be  done,  and  others  that  ought 
to  be  shunned,  regardless  of  personal  feelings.  Such  an 
attitude  must,  obviously,  be  relative  to  the  kind  of  life 
led  and  to  the  amount  of  knowledge  and  insight  attained. 
Obligation  can  be  felt  only  when  we  see  what  is  re- 
quired of  us  and  believe  the  fulfilment  of  the  claim  to 
be  within  our  power :  duty  is  always  relative  to  insight 
and  to  capacity.  Thus,  the  range  of  duty  enlarges  as  life 
becomes  fuller  and  richer,  and  the  recognition  of  its  claims 
should  grow  clearer  and  more  explicit  as  knowledge  and 
power  develop. 

The  normal  starting-point  is,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
formation  of  habits  and  habitudes  in  which  the  claims  of 
duty  are,  more  or  less  blindly,  taken  up  into  actual  con- 
duct; but  the  conduct  becomes  consciously  moral  only 
when  these  regulative  principles  are  recognised  as  such  and 
are  accepted  as  the  guides  of  life.     As  Castiglione  put  it : 

38 


DUTY.  39 

"  First  we  practise  virtue  or  vice,  after  that  we  are  virtuous 

or  vicious."1  We  train  a  child  in  good  habitudes  in  order 
that,  when  the  time  for  reflexion  comes,  lie  may  find 
wrought  into  the  texture  of  his  being  the  general  lines  of 
conduct  which  we  desire  that  he  should  recognise  as  duties, 
so  that,  ultimately,  duty  itself  may  become  his  highest  and 
most  general  habitude. 

Moreover,  the  existence  of  such  habitudes  makes 
obedience  to  the  dictates  of  duty  much  easier,  and  renders 
it  much  more  uniform.  "  For  the  highest  morality  we 
must  be  conscious  of  our  motives,  but  for  a  working 
morality  we  have  to  depend  largely  upon  our  paid-up 
moral  capital.  By  cultivating  good  moral  habits  in  our 
pupils,  we  enable  them  to  be  so  moral  without  conscious- 
ness of  morality  that  they  have  leisure  to  become  conscious 
of  moral  issues  when  these  require  special  attention."2 
The  formation  of  good  habitudes,  therefore,  is  not  the 
whole  of  moral  training :  it  is  rather  preparatory  and 
auxiliary  to  that  recognition  of  right  as  something  inde- 
pendent of  ourselves  and  binding  upon  us  of  which  we 
speak  as  the  acceptance  of  duty  as  the  guiding  principle 
of  life. 

2.  Such   acceptance  is  a  gradual   growth.      The   child 
begins   life   without   morality,    just    as    he 

ofDiIty f Mea  be£ins  [t  withoat  knowledge.  He  has  the 
undeveloped  capacity  to  learn  to  distinguish 
between  right  and  wrong,  just  as  he  has  the  nascent  power 
to  acquire  other  kinds  of  knowledge  ;  but  he  has  no  more 
ready-made  ideas  as  to  his  relations  to  his  fellow- men  than 
as  to  his  relations  to  his  physical  surroundings.  He  has, 
however,  innate  tendencies  to  certain  emotional  and  active 

1  Op.  cit.,  Bk.  IV. 

2  Adams:  Essay  on  Precept  versus  Example  in  Moral  Instruction 
and  Training  in  Schools,  Vol.  I.,  p.  41. 


40  DUTY. 

modes  of  such  relations  :  to  fear  and  trust ;  to  love  and 
hate ;  to  anger,  pity  and  sympathy ;  to  hard-heartedness 
and  benevolence ;  and  the  like ;  each  of  which  he  ex* 
periences  according  as  he  is  affected  by  his  fellows.  He 
has,  for  instance,  the  instinct  to  help  one  in  distress,  but 
this  may  conflict  with  the  instinct  to  take  revenge  for  real 
or  imagined  personal  injury.  He  has  to  learn  that  the 
former  is  right,  the  latter  wrong.  In  his  inborn  tendencies 
to  sympathize  with  others  and  to  help  them,  and,  con- 
sequently, to  respond  to  demands  made  by  them  on  him  as 
well  as  to  make  demands  on  them,  lies  the  germ  of  good- 
ness. In  short,  the  child  enters  life  with  moral  and 
spiritual  possibilities  just  as  surely  as  with  intellectual 
and  physical  possibilities.  But  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other  these  can  become  actualised  only  in  life  itself,  and  in 
such  actualisation  they  receive  specific  forms,  and  become 
organized  into  habitudes. 

Thus,  the  child's  ideas  as  to  what  is  right  and  what  is 
wrong  spring  from  his  relations  to  those  around  him.  He 
finds  his  conduct  directed  by  others,  especially  by  his 
parents.  He  learns  that  certain  actions  bring  on  him 
their  displeasure  and  condemnation,  that  other  deeds  win 
their  approval  and  commendation.  Thus,  there  gradually 
grows  up  in  his  mind  a  distinction  between  conduct  which 
those  to  him  all-powerful  arbiters  of  his  fate  enforce, 
encourage,  or  allow,  and  conduct  which  they  discounten- 
ance and  forbid,  and  indulgence  in  which  entails  con- 
sequences more  or  less  unpleasant  to  himself.  His 
instinctive  love  for  his  parents  and  his  equally  instinctive 
tendency  to  act  on  suggestion  and  to  imitate  are  thus: 
strengthened  by  an  incipient  self-interest — a  self -interest 
which  has  something  of  fear,  yet  of  a  fear  tempered  by 
love.  For  these  same  parents  who  manifest  displeasure 
when  he  does    what  they  tell  him  is  '  wrong  '  are  at  all 


DUTY.  II 

other  times  complaisant  and  encouraging  fco  his  efforts  to 
expend  Ji is  growing  powers.  This  love  inspires  in  him  a 
similar  reaction  of  affection,  and  an  affection  which  is 
strengthened  bv  the  familiarity  of  constant  intercourse. 
Moreover,  lie  soon  learns  that  even  when  they  forbid  or 
show  displeasure,  the  prohibition  and  even  the  punishment 
are  imbedded  in  love.  The  step  from  this  to  a  recognition 
that  these  things,  distasteful  to  him  at  the  time,  spring 
from  love  and  are  the  expression  of  love  seeking  his  welfare 
is  but  a  short  one.  This  recognition  is  hastened  when 
there  are  brothers  and  sisters  older  than  himself  whom  he 
is  emulous  of  imitating,  whom  he  sees  observant  of  tin' 
parents'  wishes,  and  who  also  encourage  him  when  he  does 
well  and  discourage  him  when  he  does  ill. 

3.  The  earliest    distinction  between    right   and    wrong  [ 

recognised  by  a  child  is,  then,  the  distinction 
Constraint         between   what  is    encouraged   or   approved, 

and  what  is  discouraged  or  forbidden,  by 
parents  whom  he  is  learning  to  love  and  in  whose  love 
for  him  he  is  continually  feeling  a  more  perfect  trust. 
This  regulation  of  his  conduct  is  constraint,  even  though 
the  constraint  be  mainly  that  of  love.  He  is  forbiddeu  to 
do  things  to  which  his  impulses  prompt  him,  and  desired 
to  do  others  to  which  he  is  not  inwardly  impelled,  nay 
which  may  be  inwardly  repugnant  to  him.  He  learns  that 
outbreaks  of  temper  and  other  capricious  modes  of  con- 
ducting himself  must  be  restrained,  and  that  mannerly  and 
considerate  conduct  must  be  his  rule  of  life  if  he  would 
continue  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  parental  favour. 

Of   course,    this   regulation    of   his    conduct    does    not  \ 

operate    in    him    chiefly    through    fear    of   ^ 
Constraint         punishment.      Rather   it  is   that    the   con-   ^ 

straining  force  is  love  to  his  parents,  fear  of 
displeasing  them,  and  the  instinctive  desire  to  be  at    one 


42  DUTY. 

with  those  around  him.  In  the  good  life  "  the  love  of 
Christ  constraineth  us  "  much  more  effectively  and  much 
more  worthily  than  fear  of  what  will  happen  to  ourselves 
if  we  do  wrong.  "  The  goodness  of  G-od  leadeth  thee  to 
repentance"  states  the  experience  of  every  religious  man. 
Similarly,  the  young  child  wishes  to  please  his  parents  and 
is  repentant  when  he  has  displeased  them.  So  he  moulds 
his  conduct  on  their  wishes ;  he  accepts  both  the  positive 
and  the  negative  constraint  which  they  put  on  his  im- 
pulses. The  recognition  that  he  is  thus  sacrificing  his 
immediate  personal  wishes  to  an  external  law  of  right 
which  he  accepts  as  binding  on  him  is  of  the  vaguest.  He 
knows  clearly  enough  in  the  particular  instance  that  he  is 
restrained  and  hindered.  "  You're  always  telling  me  I 
mustn't  do  what  I  want  to  do ''  is  a  not  infrequent  baby 
remonstrance.  But  the  hindrance  is  felt  as  personal,  and 
in  meeting  it  self-will  and  affection  are  curiously  blended. 
The  true  function  of  fear  is  to  strengthen  the  latter ;  if  it 
goes  beyond  this  it  is  mischievous,  for  it  makes  the 
obedience  slavish  rather  than  willing.  It  is  from  such  a 
particular  and  personal  root  that  the  full-grown  tree  of 
dutiful  habitude  must  spring. 

In  other  cases  no  opposition  is  felt,  for  the  constraint 
takes  the  form  of  simple  direction  or  even  of  suggestion. 
"  Poor  little  birdies,  see  how  hungry  they  are  in  the  snow; 
you  should  give  them  some  crumbs  "  says  a  mother,  and  the 
little  child  hastens  with  pleasure  to  do  a  deed  of  kindness 
which,  once  suggested,  has  met  with  a  ready  response 
within  her.  She  feels  no  compulsion,  and  out  of  such 
simple  seed  may  spring  a  habitude  of  kindness  to  the  weak 
which  is  essentially  good.  But  the  various  forms  in  which 
this  habitude  shows  itself  meet  with  approval  from  those 
whom  the  child  loves  and  respects,  and,  even  if  her  own  be- 
haviour do  not  call  forth  disapproval  for  the  opposite  kind 


DUTY.  43 

of  conduct,  yet  she  hears  it  expressed  on  the  acts  of  others  : 
nay,  she  feels  it  herself.  So,  even  though  the  habil  iide  did 
not  begin  in  felt  compulsion,  yet,  as  it  constantly  meets 
with  the  sanction  of  approval,  it  is  gradually  transformed 
from  a  mere  impulse  into  the  acting  on  a  kind  of  half- 
conscious  rule  which  is  felt  to  be  binding  on  the  conscience. 
Later,  of  course,  this  rule  may  be  made  definite  and  ex- 
plicit by  reflexion,  and  so  recognised  clearly  for  what  it  is 
— a  fundamental  principle  of  universal  morality  binding 
upon  all  men. 

Constraint  obviously  begins  with  conscious  life,  and  the 
home   is   the   first    school   of   duty.     When 

Constraint  tbe   child    comes    to    school  he  has    already 

in  Home  and      £  -iii-.lt  pit  p    t     i 

in  School  formed  habitudes  ot  obedience  or  ot  disobe- 

dience. Further,  in  so  far  as  he  has  learnt 
to  obey,  he  has  learnt  either  mainly  through  love  or  mainly 
through  fear.  In  the  former  case  he  has  started  well  on 
the  road  to  a  virtuous  life :  in  the  latter  his  inner  life  is 
already  in  opposition  to  his  externally  controlled  outer 
conduct ;  his  innate  tendencies  to  sympathy,  love,  benevo- 
lence, desire  for  service,  have  been  starved,  and  his  evil 
impulses  to  hatred,  anger,  opposition  to  others,  have  been 
developed. 

In  the  school,  as  a  rule,  external  constraint  takes  a  more 
definite  and  regular  form  than  it  did  in  the  home.  It  thus 
runs  the  risk  of  awakening  the  antagonism  of  the  former 
class  of  children  as  well  as  of  receiving  that  of  the  latter. 
For,  while  the  latter  come  with  a  predisposition  to  opposi- 
tion, the  former  may  feel  the  difference  of  atmosphere  so 
strongly,  if  the  authoritative  rule  be  not  suffused  with 
affectionate  sympathy,  that  the  very  contrast  of  outward 
relation  may  evoke  a  similar  contrast  in  inward  reaction. 
In  every  case,  then,  the  authority  of  the  school  and  its 
control  over  conduct  should  be  grounded  in  love,  with  fear 


44  DUTY. 

playing  its  auxiliary,  but  not  unimportant,  part  of  helping 
the  child  to  restrain  and  govern  himself. 

However  and  wherever  it  arises,  felt  constraint  is  essenti- 
ally the  recognition  of  obligation — the  acceptance  of  a  rule 
of  conduct  external  to  ourselves,  independent  of  our  im- 
pulses and  transient  wishes.  So  long  as  the  rule  is  external 
it  must  clash  at  times  with  our  inclinations,  and  this  is 
unpleasant  and  distasteful  to  us.  The  question  whether 
duty  must  always  wear  this  external  and  more  or  less 
forbidding  aspect,  whether  throughout  life  it  will  appear 
in  frequent,  if  not  in  general,  opposition  to  inclination,  is 
obviously  of  the  utmost  importance,  for  on  the  answer  to 
it  depends  the  possibility  of  the  coincidence  of  duty  and 
happiness. 

Before  turning  to  this  question,  however,  some  considera- 

t     u-i=    j.-  tion  must  be  given  to  the  view  that  all  con- 

Jus  tmcation 

of  Authori-         stramt  by   compulsion  is,  in   itself,   an  evil 
tatiye  Con-         influence  in  life,  and,  consequently,  should  be 
excluded  as  far  as  possible  from  education. 
/  This    doctrine   has    become   fashionable    during   the    last 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  owing,  in  the  first  place,  to  the 
influence  of  Rousseau.     It  appeals  to  the  natural  senti- 
ment of  kindness  to  children,  to  the  delight  in  seeing  them 
happy,  and  to  the   general  and  increasing  inclination  of 
|  parents  to  take  the  line  of  least  resistance  at  the  moment, 
which  is,  obviously,  to  let  the  child  have  its  own  way. 

We  all  agree  with  Rousseau  when  he  exhorts  us  to 
"  love  childhood,  encourage  its  sports,  its  pleasures,  its 
engaging  instincts."  l  The  question  is  whether  true  love 
means  absence  of  regulation  and  prescription.  Rousseau 
saw  around  him  a  most  artificial  state  of  society,  and  an 
education  which,  in  his  own  words,  did  not  "  wish  to  make 
a  child  a  child  but  a  learned  man."-    He  recognised  clearly 

1  Emile,  Bk.  II.  'Ibid. 


DUTY.  45 

that  human  life  is  a  development,  and  that  "each  age, 
carl)  slate  of  life,  has  its  hour  of  perfection,  the  kind  of 
maturity  natural  t<>  it."1  His  desire  was  to  bring  educa- 
tion into  truer  relation  to  life.  Unhappily  he  saw  the 
perfection  of  man's  nature  in  that  from  which  it  starts, 
not  in  that  to  which  it  is  capable  of  attaining.  So  he 
found  its  good  in  the  tilings  of  sense  rather  than  in  those 
of  the  spirit.  "Happiness  is  the  end  and  aim  of  even 
sensitive  being."2  But  "the  happiest  man  is  lie  who 
suffers  the  fewest  pains;  the  most  miserable  he  who  enjoys 
the  fewest  pleasures.  .  .  .  Man's  happiness  here  below  is 
but  a  negative  state:  it  should  be  measured  bv  the  least 
quantity  of  ills  it  endures."3 

Quite  consistently,  he  urges  the  uncertainty  of  life  as  a 
reason  why  an  educator  should  not  inflict  pain  on  a  child 
with  the  hope  of  "  correcting  the  evil  inclinations  of  the 
human  heart."  "  Fathers,  do  you  know  the  moment  when 
death  awaits  your  children  ?  Lay  not  up  for  yourselves 
regrets  bv  snatching  from  them  the  few  moments  nature 
has  given  them.  .  .  .  Unhappy  foresight,  which  makes  a 
being  actually  miserable,  in  the  hope,  well  or  ill  founded, 
of  making  him  happy  some  day."  i 

Moral  discipline  through  human  authority  should,  there- 
fore, be  excluded  from  education  :  the  child  should  follow 
the  guidance  of  his  instincts  and  impulses.  These  will 
lead  him  right,  for  we  must  "  accept  as  an  incontestable 
maxim  that  the  first  impulses  of  nature  are  always  right."5 
So,  when  Rousseau  paints  for  us  the  portrait  of  his  ideal 
pupil  at  the  age  of  twelve,  he  tells  us :  "  Speak  to  him  of 
duty,  of  obedience,  he  knows  not  what  you  say  ;  give  him 
a  command,  he  will  not  understand  you."G 

Of  course,  the  physical  world  is  less  complaisant.     The 

1  Lettre  a  C.  de  Beaumont.         °~E<nile,  Bk.  V.         3 Ibid.,  13k.  II. 
*Ibid.  5Ibid.  *Ibid. 


46  DUTY. 

child  must  conform  to  its  rules  or  perish.  Therefore  the 
educator  should  so  arrange  his  bodily  experiences  that  they 
teach  him  prudence  without  danger  to  life.  "  Keep  the 
child  in  sole  dependence  on  things.  .  .  .  Oppose  to  his 
imprudent  wishes  only  physical  obstacles,  or  the  punish- 
ments which  are  born  from  the  actions  themselves,  and 
which  he  will  recall  in  due  season.1' x  But  the  world  of 
men  is  to  be  kept  as  far  as  possible  from  the  child,  for 
"  before  the  age  of  reason  he  can  have  no  idea  of  moral 
beings  nor  of  social  relations.'1 2  It  must  be  granted  that 
all  knowledge  of  such  relations  cannot  be  excluded  from  his 
life,  so  "  it  is  enough  if  we  put  off  as  long  as  possible  the 
need  for  these  ideas."3  Thus,  when  we  are  shown  Emile  at 
the  end  of  his  boyhood  the  characteristic  note  of  the  picture 
is  its  moral  isolation.  "  He  considers  himself  without  re- 
gard to  others,  and  is  content  that  others  do  not  concern 
themselves  with  him.  He  exacts  nothing  from  anyone, 
and  acknowledges  no  duty  to  anyone.  .  .  .  He  is  alone  in 
human  society  ;  he  relies  solely  on  himself."  4 

It  is  true  that  Rousseau  assumes  that  in  the  years  of 
adolescence  the  social  virtues  will  develop.  But  here,  as 
elsewhere,  he  ignores  the  force  of  habitude,  and  fails  to 
recognise  that  innate  powers,  if  never  exercised,  become 
atrophied.  He  has  cultivated  m  his  pupil  "  all  the  virtue 
that  concerns  himself,"  that  is,  the  kind  of  prudence  of 
which  R.  L.  Stevenson  wrote :  "  So  soon  as  prudence  has 
begun  to  grow  up  in  the  brain,  like  a  dismal  fungus,  it 
finds  its  first  expression  in  a  paralysis  of  generous  acts."5 
Indeed,  at  all  times  social  relations  are,  to  the  mind  of 
Rousseau,  but  excrescences  on  man's  real  life ;  bonds  of 
which  the  necessity  is  to  be  regretted,  and  which  should  be 
made  as  few  and  feeble  as  possible.  "  The  dependence 
upon  men,  being  opposed  to  natural  order,  engenders 
1  Emile,  Bk.  II.       ~  Ibid.       "Ibid.       i  Ibid.,  Bk.  III.       &JEa  Triplex. 


DUTY.  47 

all  maimer  of  vices,"1  and  with  tlie  increase  of  such  de- 
pendence comes  decrease  of  liberty  to  live  one's  own  life. 
"He  who  does  what  he  wills  is  happy,  if  he  be  self- 
sufficing.  This  is  the  case  with  men  living  in  the  slate  of 
nature.  .  .  .  Each  of  us,  being  no  longer  able  to  do  without 
others,  has  become  to  that  extent  feeble  and  miserable."2 
Thus  it  is  that,  because  of  society,  though  "man  is  born 
free,  yet  everywhere  he  is  in  chains."3  For,  with  Rousseau, 
freedom  is  essentially  independence  of  one's  fellows.  "  He 
alone  carries  out  his  will  who  has  no  need,  in  order  to 
accomplish  it,  to  use  the  arms  of  another  to  lengthen  his 
own."4 

Rousseau's  ideal  of  life  is,  then,  a  quiet  existence,  seeking 
as  little  as  possible  from  others,  doing  as  little  as  possible 
for  them ;  looking  not  ahead ;  inspired  by  no  lofty  pur- 
poses ;  finding  its  satisfaction  in  making  the  best  of  the 
present ;  abhorrent  of  all  service  which  involves  self-sacri- 
fice ;  avoiding  ill,  yet  not  seeking  good,  for  "  by  working 
to  increase  our  happiness  we  render  ourselves  miserable." 
In  a  word,  it  is  an  existence  most  ignobly  selfish,  wanting 
in  that  endeavour  after  something  better  which  makes  even 
aggressive  self-seeking  not  utterly  contemptible.  It  is 
the  glorification  of  the  flabby  invertebrate  sentimentalist, 
to  whom  we  may  well  apply  the  words  of  R.  L.  Stevenson: 
"To  be  quite  honest,  the  weak  brother  is  the  worst  of 
mankind."1'  In  such  a  philosophy  of  inertia,  no  real  con- 
ception of  duty  or  of  the  seriousness  of  life  can  arise. 

If  this  view  of  life  be  rejected,  Rousseau's  exclusion  of 
authority  and  prescription  from  education  must  also  be 
rejected ;  for  it  is  incontestable  that  the  latter  is  consistent 
with  the  former,  and  with  no  other  conception  of  life. 

We  have  dealt  with  this  matter  at  some  length  because 

1  Emile,  Bk.  I  J.  2  Ibid.  3  Covtrat  social,  Bk.  I.,  Oh.  I. 

*  Jimile,  Bk.  II.  5  Ibid.  G  Crabbed  Age  and  Youth. 


48  DUTY. 

it  is  of  fundamental  importance.  No  doubt  the  cult  of  the 
spoilt  child  arose  in  part  as  a  reaction  against  the  exag- 
gerated severity  traditionally  associated,  with  what  truth 
it  is  difficult  to  say,  with  the  bringing  up  of  children  by 
our  forefathers.  In  part  it  seems  due  to  a  growing  dislike 
of  parents  to  take  trouble  and  to  give  themselves  the  pain 
of  causing  their  children  even  momentary  sorrow ;  in  part 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  it  springs  from  the  idea  that  the 
parent  can  transfer  to  the  school  his  duty  of  educating  his 
children,  and  from  his  general  willingness  to  yield  his 
parental  charge  to  the  State  or  to  any  other  body  which 
will  undertake  it.  But  at  the  bottom  of  it  all  lies  just  this 
tendency  to  encourage  individual  liberty  at  all  costs  which 
has,  since  the  time  of  Rousseau,  become  more  and  more 
operative  in  human  life. 

Whatever  be  the  cause,  it  is  certain  that  every  school 
has  to  deal  with  children  who  have  learnt  little  or  no  self- 
control  at  home.  Indeed,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  number 
is  on  the  increase.  The  school  must,  in  its  own  defence, 
impose  restraints,  and,  in  such  cases,  these  are  resented  by 
the  parents  as  much  as  by  the  children.  Thus,  disunion 
and  even  opposition  arise  between  home  and  school.  The 
problem  is  so  to  exercise  the  necessary  constraint  that  it 
may  be  effective  and,  at  the  same  time,  as  little  provocative 
as  possible.  Only  so  will  it  win  the  assent  of  the  child. 
'To  control  his  actions  while  his  heart  is  perverse  is  to  pay 
a  heavy  price  in  the  future  even  if,  as  is  far  from  likely, 
peace  be  secured  in  the  present. 

We  must,  however,  face  the  question  raised  by  Eousseau : 
Is  constraint  of  necessity  opposed  to  free- 
Constraint  and  c]0111 .     ant]j    if    no^)    how    cau    the    two    be 

harmonized  ?  Now,  '  free  '  implies  actual  or 
possible  action  :  it  means  '  free  to  do  something  one  wishes 
to  do.'     The  more  fully,  then,   one  can  accomplish  one's 


DUTY. 


r.» 


wishes  the  greater  is  one's  freedom.     But    wishes   \,u\    in 
1  heir  scope  and  importance  in  life.     The  wishes  and  desires 
of  the  moment  count  for  little;    those   which   counl    for 
much  have  reference  to  far-reaching  purposes  which  domi- 
nate great  portions  of  life.     It  follows  that  the  freedom 
of  attaining  these   is   greater  and  of    higher   worth   than 
the  freedom  of  satisfying  transitory  desires,   because  the 
end  sought  is  greater  and  more  of  life  is  involved.     Now, 
to  attain  a  wide  and,  it  may  be,  distant  purpose  demands 
power  of  persistence,    and    this   carries    with    it   power   of 
resistance    to    whatever    would    turn    us    aside    from    our 
way.     But  nothing  draws  us  aside  unless  in  some  way  it 
appeals  to  a  part  of  our  nature.     The  pursuit  of  purpose, 
therefore,  implies  the  power  to  negate  narrower  impulses 
which  may  be  excited  by  circumstances  through  which  our 
pursuit  takes  us.     In  other  words,  freedom  in  this  wider 
sense  is  opposed  to  freedom  in  the  narrower  sense.      For, 
to  satisfy  each  momentary  impulse  is  to  make  impossible  all 
persistent  following  out  of  purpose.    This  we  recognise  when 
we  speak  of  a  man  as  the  slave  of  his  passions ;  for  this 
means  that  his  true  freedom  is  destroyed  by  the  unbridled 
license  which  he  has  allowed  to  his  smaller  and  narrower  im- 
pulses.    It  is  evident  that  the  way  to  true  freedom  does  not  j 
lie  through  the  cultivation  of  that  which  destroys  freedom.  [ 

But  the  carrying  out  of  purpose  is  not  dependent  simply 
on  inward  conditions.  For  purpose  has  to  be  realised 
both  in  the  physical  world  and  in  the  world  of  men,  and 
each  of  these  exercises  its  oavu  kind  of  constraint.  Can 
these  restraints  also  be  harmonized  with  freedom  ? 

Let  us  examine  first  man's  power  of  dealing  with  the  phy- 
sical world.     In  nothing  has  he  made  greater 

™tl^Physical  advance  during  the  last  century.      The  sea 
World ;  °  .  J 

that  once  restricted  his  intercourse  with  his 
fellows  has  become  one  of  the  most  potent  bonds  of  union. 
m.  d.  s.  4 


50  DUTY. 

Steam   and  electricity  have  gone  far  to  annihilate  both 

space  and  time,  so  far  as  space  and  time  were  obstacles  to 

communication  between  man  and  man.      Other  modern 

discoveries  have  made  it  possible  to  feed  and  clothe  numbers 

that  could  not  have  been  fed  and  clothed  a  century  ago. 

Man  has  in  many  ways  conquered  nature  and  bent  her  to 

his  will.     He  has  undoubtedly  increased  his  freedom,  for 

now  he  is  much  less  hindered  by  the  opposition  of  physical 

nature  in  carrying  out  his  purposes.     But  when  we  enquire 

how  this  reduction  of  physical  opposition  has  been  secured 

Jwe  find  that  man  has  conquered  nature  by  obeying  her. 

As  science  lays  bare  the  modes  of  nature's  operations  man 

so  adapts  his  inventions   as  to  utilise  those  discoveries. 

But  he  utilises  them  by  accepting  them :  the  forms  of  his 

inventions  are  determined  by  the  modes  of  the  operation 

of  the  physical  forces  he  wishes  to  bend  to  his  purposes. 

)In  a  word,  in  relation  to  the  physical  world  man  gains 

/freedom  through  acceptance  of  constraint.     By  adapting 

his  operations  to  those  of  nature  he  makes  those  very 

modes  of  physical  action  which  he  cannot  change  subserve 

his  purposes. 

Nor  is  it  different  with  the  human  world.     Rousseau 

evidently  regarded  social  duty  as  a  limita- 

w  th?A  Human    tion  of  freedom.    ' '  Outside  societ v  an  isolated 
World.  _  #  •* 

man,  owing  nothing  to  others,  has  a  right  to 
live  as  he  pleases.  But  in  society,  where  necessarily  each 
man  lives  at  the  expense  of  others,  every  one  owes  in  work 
for  the  community  the  cost  of  his  subsistence."1  But  as 
true  freedom  is  not  found  in  living  as  one  pleases,  that  is, 
as  the  sentiments  of  the  moment  dictate,  but  in  following 
out  life-purposes,  it  must  be  maintained  that  everything 
which  makes  life  more  effective  increases  freedom.  Now, 
every  one  is  born  into  a  society ;  and  a  society  in  which 

1  Emile,  Bk.  III. 


DUTY.  51 

each  should  be  solely  occupied  with  himself  is  a  contradic- 
tion in  terms.  In  such  an  anarchic  state  there  would  be 
continued  opposition  of  individuals  :  the  selfishness  of 
each  would  demand  the  sacrifice  of  others.  Certainly  we 
have  seltish  people  among  us;  even  some  who  attain  thai 
sublime  height  of  selfishness  which  is  involved  in  being 
unconscious  that  they  are  selfish,  who  are  so  sell-centred 
that  the  effect  of  their  actions  on  others  never  enters  into 
their  consideration  at  all.  Yet  even  these  have  to  fit  their 
lives  into  the  life  of  society,  and  in  doing  so  they  act  at 
times  on  kindly  impulses  which  are  as  innate  as  are  those 
which  are  merely  self-seeking,  though  through  desuetude 
they  have  become  less  operative  in  life.  Even  the  most 
selfish  find  that  they  can  attain  their  selfish  ends  only  by 
observing  certain  restraints  imposed  by  law.  If  these  are 
disregarded  society  has  a  praiseworthy  habit  of  very  effec- 
tively limiting  further  freedom  of  action  by  the  walls  of  a 
prison  or  even  by  the  gallows.  Nor  can  the  self-seeker 
be  altogether  disregardful  of  public  opinion  ;  for,  if  he 
were,  he  would  soon  find  his  operations  hindered  by  a 
more  or  less  active  boycott. 

Even  the  selfish  man,  therefore,  has  to  look  at  the 
relations  between  himself  and  others  from  both  sides, 
though  he  may  place  all  the  emphasis  of  his  interest  on 
the  personal  side.  For  very  few  purposes  can  be  achieved 
without  the  active  assistance,  or  at  least  the  passive 
acquiescence,  of  others,  and  the  wider  and  more  far- 
reaching  the  purpose  the  greater  the  need  of  social  co- 
operation in  and  for  its  realisation. 

Of  course,  the  normal  man  or  woman  is  not  a  mass  of 
selfishness  :  still  less  is  the  normal  child.  The  altruistic 
impulses  vary  in  strength  in  different  persons,  but  they 
are  innate  in  all,  and  seldom  indeed  are  they  entirely 
crushed.     The  cooperation  with  others,  which  even  in  the 


52  DUTY. 

case  of  extreme  selfishness  we  have  seen  to  be  unavoidable, 
is,  in  the  case  of  the  normal  human  being,  itself  a  delight ; 
for  by  it  alone  can  he  find  satisfaction  for  that  part  of 
himself  which  reaches  out  "  in  love  and  charity  with 
all  men." 

It  is  seen,  then,  that  society  is  an  organization  of  such 
a  hind  that  no  member  "  liveth  to  himself 
The  Individual  aioue"  Of  course,  society  leaves  the  indivi- 
dual free  when  his  purposes  and  acts  are  not 
in  opposition  to  its  laws  and  rules.  So  that  the  closer  the 
harmony  betAveen  an  individual  and  the  society  around 
him  as  to  acts  and  purposes,  the  greater  power  he  has  to 
carry  out  those  purposes  ;  for  the  more  surely  may  he 
count  on  the  active  or  passive  cooperation  of  his  fellows. 
This  is  recognised  in  the  readiness  men  show  to  form 
associations  to  carry  out  wide  ends.  Such  associations 
frequently  have  rules  which  restrict  the  freedom  of  the 
members  in  matters  of  small  moment,  and  which  are 
accepted  because  they  are  seen  to  be  the  means  to  the 
attainment  of  freedom  in  a  matter  of  much  greater  moment. 
Freedom,  in  a  word,  is  realised  in  proportion  as  the  indi- 
vidual acts  in  harmony  with  social  laws,  just  as  it  is 
increased  by  his  practical  recognition  of  physical  laws. 

With  every  development,  indeed,  in  the  complexity  of 
life  due  to  the  conquest  of  the  physical  world,  there  arises 
more  and  more  imperatively  the  need  for  human  coopera- 
tion. The  mighty  ocean  liner  requires  many  more  men, 
and  those  of  more  varied  and  more  specialised  skill,  to 
cooperate  in  its  conduct  across  the  ocean  than  did  the 
simple  dug-out  canoe  of  the  savage.  The  modern  factory 
demands  the  cooperation  of  many  workers,  each  skilled  to 
do  a  special  part  of  the  work,  so  that  the  final  product 
embodies  the  skill  and  the  labour  of  many  brains  and 
many  hands.     Different,  indeed,  is  it  from  the  days  when  the 


DUTY.  53 

conversion  of  wool  to  cloth  was  but  one  of  the  numerous 
occupations  of  members  of  the  same  family. 

Even  the  conquest  of  nature's  secrets,  then,  would  do 
little  to  add  to  man's  freedom  did  he  not  cooperate'  with 
his  fellows  and  receive  their  cooperation  in  return.  The 
more  complex  the  civilisation  the  more  is  this  apparent. 
Thus,  power  of  cooperation  is  more  and  more  essential  to 
each  individual :  he  is  more  and  more  dependent,  directly 
or  indirectly,  upon  others  to  achieve  his  purposes. 

But  cooperation  implies  that  all  act  together  in  a  deter- 
minate way  for  a  desired  end,  and  this  means  that  all 
accept  the  constraint  implied  in  this  determination.  Co- 
operation is  the  negation  of  the  freedom  of  individual 
caprice:  each  has  to  adapt  his  activity  so  that  it  takes  its 
place  in  an  organized  whole.  Effectiveness  in  action  is, 
therefore,  increased  by  acceptance  of  social  and  economic, 
as  well  as  of  physical,  constraint. 

Lastly,  as  we  have  already  seen,  just  as  freedom  is 
limited  by  the  clashing  of  individual  wills  in  a  society, 
so  it  is  limited,  or,  indeed,  negated,  by  the  clashing  of 
wills  in  oneself.  So  long  as  one  holds  to  contradictory 
purposes  one  cannot  live  an  effective  life :  what  one  does 
to-day  destroys  what  one  did  yesterday,  and  will  be,  in 
turn,  negated  by  what  one  does  to-morrow. 

Thus,  freedom  is  attained  only  when  life-purposes  are 
harmonized  among  themselves  as  well  as  with  the  wider 
purposes  of  society.  But  such  harmony  implies  that  what 
is  held  by  the  best  minds  in  our  society  to  be  highest  and 
of  most  worth  is  so  esteemed  by  ourselves.  We  are  always 
conscious  that  the  average  moral  opinion  of  our  age  and 
country  is  but  an  inadequate  representation  of  the  highest 
point  of  view  attained.  This,  indeed,  is  inseparable  from 
an  average.  But  we  also  know  that  no  condemnation  is 
to  be  feared  from  society  by  those  who  follow  that  highest, 


54  DUTY. 

while  the  attempt  to  keep  to  the  average  may  well  bring 

us  into  collision  with  others,  and  must  make  us  discontented 

with  ourselves,  and  therefore  limit  our  freedom. 

4.  This  leads  to  our  next  important  topic — that  the  idea 

of  duty,  though  suggested  from  without,  yet 

T  HZwf^fl is  itself  an  inward  growth  in  the  soul.    "  Man 

Inward  Force.  .  . 

would  still  have  duties,"  wrote  Victor  Cousin, 
"  even  though  he  ceased  to  be  in  any  relation  with  other 
men.  As  long  as  he  has  any  intelligence  and  liberty  left, 
the  idea  of  right  remains  in  him,  and  with  that  idea, 
duty."1  Immediately  we  recognise  that  this  or  that  is 
right  to  do,  and  is  within  our  power  to  do,  there  emerges 
the  feeling  that  we  ought  to  do  it.  Every  capacity  is  a 
felt  need.  The  recognition  that  one  could  be  better  than 
one  is,  or  could  do  better  than  one  does,  is  itself  an  impul- 
sive force  towards  improvement.  Outward  constraint  could 
effect  no  educative  result  had  it  not  this  inward  spring  of 
conduct  to  respond  to  it.  "The  soul  of  the  child  can  be 
interested  in  a  moral  rule  only  to  the  extent  to  which  he 
finds  it,  in  some  sort,  in  himself,  in  which  he  perceives  in 
it  the  end  at  once  reasonable  and  natural  of  his  activity."2 

It  is  just  in  the  distinction  between  constraint  which 
.evokes  this  inner  impulse  through  love  and  sympathy,  and 
'  that  which  does  not,  but  relies  solely  on  fear,  that  is  found 
the  difference  between  government  through  influence  and 
government  by  force.  When  discipline  operates  truly  as  > 
influence,  the  various  forms  of  duty  will  gradually  appear 
to  the  child  as  imposed  by  his  own  will  and  regulated  by 
his  own  thought.  This  is  the  only  way  in  which  self-  ; 
control   can  be  generated — by  giving  clear  and   fruitful  i 

1  Le  Yrai,  le  Beau,ct  le  Bicn,  Lect.  xxi.,  Oh.  22. 

2  IVI.  Seailles :  Paper  on  L' education  intellectuelle  et  Veducation 
morale,  read  at  First  International  Moral  Education  Congress, 
Report,  p.  293. 


DUTY.  55 


»•) 


ideas  in  relation  to  the  self  and  to  others,  and  by  showing 
the  expectation  that  these  will  be  acted  upon.  "The  pupil 
should  always  be  treated  as  one  who  is  called  to  the  high 
task  of  a  good  life  and  to  the  bearing  of  responsibility."1 
When  once  the  child  has  recognised  that  the  rules  he  is 
called  upon  to  obey  help  him,  even  against  himself,  to 
attain  the  purposes  his  soul  approves,  then  even  hindrance 
of  some  forms  of  activity  will  be  accepted  and  recognised 
as  making  ultimately  for  greater  freedom. 

It  is  because  the  school  as  an  ordered  community  with 
specialised  functions  lays  down  certain  simple  and  clearly 
defined  duties,  and  can  give  easily  understood  reasons  for 
their  fulfilment,  that  it  is  so  unique  an  instrument  of 
moral  training.  By  making  the  child  "  faithful  over  a 
few  things  "  it  sets  him  on  the  way  to  become  "master 
over  many  things." 

It  is  evident  that  when  necessity  arises  duty  must  be 
enforced  even  by  punishment.  Even  then,  the  teacher's 
aim  should  be  rather  to  lead  the  offender  to  see  that  such 
enforcement  is  not  a  mere  arbitrary  act,  but  is  rendered 
necessary  by  the  very  nature  of  the  school  life.  The 
essential  work  of  the  school  is  hindered  by  the  offence,  and 
against  such  hindrance  it  must  react  or  perish.  To  the 
extent  to  which  this  is  recognised  the  necessitv  for  con- 
straint  becomes  apparent,  and  so  the  constraint  becomes 
operative  in  the  formation  of  character.  This  would  be 
impossible  had  the  child  no  innate  impulses  to  acknowledge 
the  rights  of  others,  and  in  such  acknowledgment  to  inhibit 
those  of  his  impulses  which  are  antagonistic  to  those 
rights.  The  child  more  and  more  identifies  himself  with 
the  community  and  finds  his  own  development  through 
social  service. 

1  Eucken  :  Essay  on  The  Problem  of  Moral  Instruction  in  Moral 
Training  and  Instruction  in  Schools,  Vol.  1.,  ]>.  5, 


56  PUTT. 

Let  us  consider  a  simple  instance.  A  child  neglects  his 
lessons.  The  teacher  may  compel  him  to  do  them  by 
detention  after  school  hours.  So  far,  good.  The  violated 
rule  of  the  school  has  been  vindicated.  But  much  more  is 
effected  if  the  teacher  can  lead  the  culprit  to  see  that  his 
idleness  is  an  injustice  to  the  class,  in  that  it  retards  the 
general  progress  ;  that  he  is  thus  hindering  the  freedom  of 
others  to  do  that  for  which  they  specially  come  to  school, 
and,  as  he  has  no  definite  purpose  behind  his  neglect,  he  is 
not  in  any  sense  increasing  his  own  freedom  or  power  of 
doing. 

It  is,  then,  because  the  line  of  conduct  indicated  by  the 
outer  constraint  is  seen  to  be  the  means  towards  improve- 
ment, and  because  improvement  draws  us  to  itself,  that  the 
rule  of  constraint  is  accepted  as  the  principle  of  life.  Thus, 
more  and  more  the  aspect  of  compulsion  is  lost  in  that  of 
interest  and  attraction.  The  acceptance  of  the  prescribed 
course  as  the  way  towards  a  desired  end  means  the  absorp- 
tion of  interest  in  that  course.  So  the  end  set  up  by  duty 
becomes  itself  the  object  of  desire,  and  the  fulfilment  of 
duty  becomes  more  and  more  habitual. 

This  is  the  general  form  of  moral  training.  But  the 
content  is  equally  essential.  The  educative  end  is  not 
attained  unless  the  objects  of  desire  which  fill  the  concept 
of  duty  are  sufficiently  high  and  wide.  The  ideals  of  life 
which  a  school  presents  to  its  pupils,  whether  in  the 
example  of  its  teachers  or  in  the  choice  of  the  subject- 
matter  of  its  teaching,  and  the  means  by  which  it  tries  to 
induce  them  to  accept  those  ideals  are  of  the  most  vital 
importance. 

5.  Duty  is  thus  seen  to  be  the  essence  of  life.     Just  as 

it    implies    actual     freedom — for    what    is 
Duty  and  Life.    -.  ■,  .  ^ 

beyond    our    power  is  not  our  duty — so  it 

augments  potential  freedom;  for  in  its  fulfilment  we  find 


DUTY.  r«  7 

ourselves  more  and  more  unhindered  in  seeking  our  ends 
both  by  others,  and  by  our  own  weaknesses.  But  the 
successful  putting  forth  of  varied  effort  is  the  only  road  to 
satisfaction  in  life.  As  Aristotle  put  it :  "  If  we  lav  down 
that  the  function  of  man  is  a  certain  kind  of  life,  and  that 
this  life  consists  of  an  activity  of  the  soul  and  of  certain 
rational  acts,  if  we  lay  down  further  that  the  function  of  a 
good  man  is  to  perform  these  acts  rightly  and  well,  and  if 
every  function  is  well  discharged  when  it  is  discharged  in 
accordance  with  its  appropriate  form  of  goodness,  we  get 
a  definition  of  the  Good  for  Man.  It  will  be  :  An  activity 
of  the  soul  according  to  goodness,  and,  if  there  are  more 
kinds  of  goodness  than  one,  in  accordance  with  that  which 
is  best  and  most  complete.  And  we  must  add  further : 
in  a  complete  life."1  Thus,  duty  leads  to  happiness,  and 
neglect  of  duty,  however  pleasant  it  may  be  at  the  time,  is 
destructive  of  happiness  in  that  it  is  destructive  of  the 
efficiency  of  life. 

Duty  is  a  form  of  living.  It  is  not  merely  incidental 
and  occasional  in  life.  Of  course,  special  forms  of  duty  are 
occasional,  and,  it  may  be,  even  transient.  Every  com- 
munity imposes  on  its  members  duties  peculiar  to  itself  : 
restrictions  justifiable  by  its  organization  and  purpose,  but 
not  of  universal  obligation.  But  duty  in  the  general  sense 
is  an  aspect  of  the  whole  of  life.  It  "  rises  with  us  in  the 
morning,  and  goes  to  rest  with  us  at  night :  it  is  the  shadow 
that  follows  us  wheresoever  we  go,  and  onlv  leaves  us  when 
we  leave  the  light  of  life."2  Whatever  we  are  doing  such 
fundamental  duties  as  truth,  honesty,  kindliness,  industry, 
obedience  to  rightful  authority,  are  binding  upon  us. 
These  are  particular  forms  of  the  most  general  law  that  it 

1  Ethic*,  I.  7  (translated  by  Burnet). 

2  The  late  W.  E.  Gladstone  :   quoted  by  Rickaby,  Moved  Philo- 
sophy, p.  247. 


58  DUTY. 

is  our  duty  always  to  do  the  best  and  most  we  can  in  the 
circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed.  Alwavs,  a  better 
and  a  worse  lie  before  us  ;  sometimes  several  gradations  of 
good  and  bad.  If  we  do  the  best  we  see,  we  fulfil  duty  ;  if, 
seeing  a  better  we  yet  do  a  worse,  we  neglect  duty,  even 
though  the  worse  we  do  violates  no  explicit  rule  of 
morality. 

Duty  cannot,  then,  be  satisfied  by  a  kind  of  moral 
passivity,  by  an  avoidance  of  obvious  evil.  A 
Positive  and  negative  cannot  fire  the  heart.  Inspiration 
straint.  ^o  effort  must  be  positive,  and  morality  con- 

sists in  strenuous  doing  of  the  right,  not  in 
shivering  on  the  brink  of  the  wrong. 

Of  course,  in  guiding  child-life  we  have  to  warn  and 
forbid  as  well  as  to  guide  and  urge  onwards.  We  must 
say  '  Don't  do  that ! '  as  well  as  '  Do  this ! '  But  whenever 
it  is  possible  the  positive  should  be  preferred  to  the  nega- 
tive. If  a  child  is  actually  engaged,  or  is  obviously  about 
to  engage,  in  a  piece  of  wrong-doing,  such  as  throwing 
stones  at  birds,  or  bullying  a  companion,  direct  prohibition 
is  called  for.  Or  if  a  boy  has  contracted  a  bad  habit — say, 
that  of  smoking  cigarettes — though  if  he  abstain  he  will 
occupy  his  time  in  some  other  way,  yet  those  other  ways 
are  numerous  and  they  are  not  incompatible  with  occa- 
sional indulgence  in  the  habit.  The  direct  negative  is  again 
called  for,  though  it  will  be  of  little  effect  unless  it  arouse 
the  positive  desire  to  be  freed  from  the  chains  of  the  evil 
habit. 

In  addition  to  the  objection  that  negative  commands, 
while  shutting  up  one  avenue  to  wrong,  give  no  clue  to  the 
form  of  conduct  which  should  actually  be  followed,  the 
provocative  nature  of  prohibition  must  be  noted.  No  one 
likes  to  be  baulked  in  what  he  has  set  his  heart  on  doing ; 
and  a  prohibition  will  often  cause  a  child  to  set  his  heart  on 


DUTY.  59 

\vh at  would  otherwise  liavo  had  no  special  attraction  for 
him.  "Stolen  fruit  is  sweet."  The  prohibition  may,  indeed, 
be  the  first  suggestion  of  a  line  of  action  which  offersavent 
for  restless  energy, and  which  imagination  paints  in  attrac- 
tive colours.  To  this  the  mere  'Don't'  opposes  In  it  a 
flimsy  harrier.  Especially  is  this  the  case  when  the  '  don't  ' 
is  addressed  to  a  company  full  of  life  and  vitality — a  point 
well  understood  by  the  stump- orator  who,  when  persistent  ly 
interrupted  by  an  objector,  exhorted  his  hearers  :  "  Don't 
put  him  under  the  pump  ! ' 

In  increasing  order  of  educative  value,  provided  that  each 
be  effective,  the  forms  of  constraint  would  rank  :  negative 
command,  positive  command,  suggestion.  The  latter  is  by 
far  the  most  vitalising ;  for  it  at  once  evokes  the  will,  appeals 
to  both  heart  and  imagination,  and  stimulates  the  impulse 
to  "  do  all  I  know."  And  the  child  of  strong  will — the 
most  promising  material  of  all  with  which  the  educator  has 
to  deal — will  often  resent  a  command,  whether  positive  or 
negative,  but  accept  with  avidity  a  suggestion  wisely  and 
tactfully  offered.  Commands  are  the  hedges  of  the  weak  : 
suggestions  are  the  finger-posts  of  the  strong. 

6.  Duty  is,  then,  as  concrete  as  life  itself.  It  is  not  an 
abstract  idea,  nor  a  set  of  formal  rules.  It 
of  Dutv n  ^  ^  innereut  in  every  conscious  act,  and.  its 
demands  can  only  be  determined  when  all 
the  aspects  and  conditions  of  that  act — the  circumstances 
in  which  it  is  done  and  the  capabilities  of  the  doer — are 
known.  What  is  duty  to  A  may  be  beyond  the  power  of  B, 
and  at  the  same  time  be  less  than  the  power  of  C  and  so 
fall  short  of  his  duty.  This  makes  it  generally  impossible 
for  another  to  decide  whether  an  individual  has,  in  any 
special  case,  fully  done  his  duty,  and  gives  meaning  and 
force  to  the  precept :  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged." 
No  doubt,  to  some  extent  wo  have  to  judge  others  :   parents, 


60  DUTY. 

teachers,  and  others  in  positions  of  moral  authority  have 
to  judge  as  best  they  can  the  conduct  of  those  for  whom 
they  are  responsible.  The  rule  of  charity  must  then  be 
kept.  A  kind  of  standard  should  be  applied  which  an 
average  person  of  that  age  and  those  general  antecedents 
might  reasonably  be  expected  to  reach,  and  the  attainment 
of  that  standard  should  be  accepted  as  satisfactory  so  far  as 
the  external  authority  is  concerned.  But  in  judging  our- 
selves we  cannot  do  this.  At  the  bar  of  conscience  there 
is  no  exceeding  of  duty.  The  duty  of  each  of  us  is  the 
highest  of  which  individually  we  are  capable.  It  is  a  per- 
sonal matter.  What  we  see  to  be  best,  that  duty  calls  us 
to  do,  however  far  it  may  go  beyond  the  average  opinion  of 
the  age  or  the  demands  we  should  feel  justified  in  imposing 
on  others.  Only  let  us  make  sure  that  it  is  the  highest,  and 
that  we  are  not  blinded  by  spiritual  pride. 

But  though  we  cannot  acknowledge  that  in  truth  duty 
can  ever  be  exceeded,  yet  in  our  judgments  of  others  we 
have  to  recognise  such  a  possibility,  just  because  by  '  duty  ' 
we  then  mean  only  the  average  standard  of  conduct  which 
all  should  reach.  We  praise  as  heroism  the  act  of  the  man 
who  leads  a  forlorn  hope,  who  plunges  into  a  burning 
house  to  save  the  life  of  another,  or  who  in  any  way  goes 
beyond  the  line  of  action  which  we  tacitly  lay  down  as 
binding  on  all  decent  folk.  We  put  this  line  of  externally 
determined  dutv  as  it  were  midway  between  the  conduct 
of  the  hero  and  that  of  the  dastard.  But  in  the  heart  of 
the  hero,  just  because  he  is  a  hero,  duty  calls  to  the  act 
which  to  us  is  heroic.  Thus  it  is  that  the  true  hero  is 
always  modest  over  his  achievements.  He  has  done  nothing 
out  of  the  way  for  him,  whatever  it  may  be  for  the  mass 
of  mankind. 

We    see   here   the   development   of    duty    in   the   soul. 
Beginning  with  an  attempt  to  reach  the  standard  set  up 


DUTY.  61 

by  others,  it  passes  beyond  this  as  the  moral  life  advance 
One's  own  conception  of  duty  should  l>c  higher  than  thai 
fixed  by  the  expectations  of  others.  For  each  Knows  whal 
capacity  he  has,  and  to  what  extent  and  how  single- 
heartedly  he  puts  forth  that  capacity  in  any  given  con- 
ditions, while  others  can  only  apply  the  vague  general 
standard  of  mediocre  respectability. 

7.  But  how  shall  duty  be  decided  when  two   or   more 
alternative  courses  of  conduct  present  them- 

Decision  of         selves  ?      These    may    be   either    alternative 
Duty :  „  ,  , , 

ways  oi  carrying  out  one  and  the  same  pur- 
pose or  the  seeking  of  two  or  more  incompatible  purposes. 
In  the  former  case  we  should  examine  the  alternative 

means,  and  accept  that  which  our  analysis 
Choice  of  indicates  as    making  most   directly  for  t lie 

purpose,  so  long  as  we  adhere  to  the  ride 
that  it  is  not  lawful  to  do  evil  that  good  may  come. 
For  example,  if  our  purpose  be  the  regaining  of  strength 
after  an  illness  or  a  prolonged  strain  of  work,  no  ques- 
tion of  morality  is  involved  in  our  choice  of  the  place  in 
which  to  spend  our  holiday.  We  enquire  which  will  be 
likely  to  have  the  best  physical  effect  upon  us,  and  decide 
accordingly. 

In  the  other  case  we  have  to  decide  between  ends.     We 

must  suppose  that  each  alternative  so  appeals 
Conflict  of         t0  us  as  t0  evoke  desire.     Now,  desire  is  an 

active  disturbance  of  the  soul  prompting  to 
its  own  realisation.  Hence  it  involves  a  certain  feeliny  of  dis- 
content  and  unrest.  When  there  is  onlv  one  desire,  or  when 
the  desires  are  compatible,  action  follows.  But  when  it  is 
otherwise  there  is  conflict,  and  the  question  of  duty  arises. 
Usually  in  life  we  have  no  real  doubt  as  to  what  is  our  duty  : 
the  difficulty  is  not  in  deciding  that  question  but  in  acting 
on  the  perception  of  right.     It  may  be  that  all  the  antici- 


62  DUTY. 

pated  pleasure  is  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  fitting 
ourselves  by  strenuous  and  distasteful  effort  for  a  further 
and  nobler  purpose.  Then  there  is  conflict  between  imme- 
diate pleasure  and  ultimate,  wider,  and  truer  satisfaction. 
But  there  is,  in  such  cases,  no  difficulty  in  discerning  the 
path  of  duty.  Generally  we  may  say  that  duty  points  to 
the  course  which  makes  for  a  fuller  life  and  has  a  wider  end. 
Failure  in  duty  is  most  often  due  to  insufficient  self-com- 
mand ;  so  that  our  impulses  towards  present  ease  and 
pleasure,  and  our  instinctive  shrinking  from  the  unpleasant, 
are  allowed  to  decide  our  conduct  even  though  we  know  we 
are  rejecting  a  higher  end.  Horace  and  St.  Paul  were  not 
alone  in  seeing  the  better  and  yet  following  the  worse.  The 
importance  of  good  habitudes  and  good  habits  as  auxiliaries 
to  the  feeble  will  is  obvious. 

This  brings  home  to  us  the  importance  in  life  of  strength 
of  will,  organized  and  trained  by  habitude.  People  are 
variously  endowed  by  nature  with  perseverance  and  what 
the  schoolboy  calls  '  grit '  and  '  pluck  ' ;  that  is,  power  to  act 
against  pleasure  or  in  the  teeth  of  pain.  Readiness  to  do 
this  is  involved  in  the  idea  of  duty.  Yet  we  should  be 
wrong  were  we  to  identify  duty  with  the  unpleasant. 
Duty  and  pleasant  inclination  are  sometimes  in  opposition, 
but  the  opposition  lessens  both  in  force  and  in  frequency  as 
the  moral  life  advances.  This  opposition  is,  as  Ave  have 
seen,  between  immediate  and  remote  purposes.  A  child 
cannot  look  far  ahead,  and,  therefore,  to  call  upon  him  con- 
tinually to  forego  immediate  pleasure  on  the  ground  of  a 
future  good,  to  him  vague  and  problematical,  is  as  futile 
in  moral  training  as  it  is  to  allow  him  to  yield  to  every 
impulse  as  it  arises.  What  is  needed  is  the  development 
of  interest  in  a  purpose  a  little  way  ahead,  so  that  it  is  pur- 
sued in  spite  of  trouble  and  even  of  some  unpleasantness, 
for  it  is  seen  to  be  within  reach.     As  life  and  intelligence 


DUTY.  63 

advance  and  will  power  is  strengthened,  these  purposes 
should  grow  Larger  and  Larger,and  consequently,  more  and 
more  remote.  So  the  wide  habitudes  of  concentration  of 
purpose  and  of  persistent  striving  are  cultivated,  involving 
probably  the  breaking  up  of  smaller  and  more  immediate 
habits.  Without  strength  of  will  a  really  good  character 
is  impossible. 

Duty,  then,  does  not  mean  seeking  the  painful;  1ml  it 
does  involve  readiness  to  undergo  pain,  or  to  forego  plea- 
sure, if  accomplishment  of  purpose  demand  it.  This  may, 
indeed,  often  justify  some  degree  of  asceticism,  for  our 
purpose  may  be  to  wean  ourselves  from  self-indulgence, 
and  to  cultivate  the  power  to  bear  hardship  and  to  con- 
temn delights  when  life  calls  on  us  to  do  so.  The  moral 
athlete,  like  the  physical,  does  well  to  go  at  times  into 
training,  and  always  to  avoid  becoming  '  soft.'  Of  course, 
this  must  not  be  pushed  so  far  as  to  violate  other  principles 
of  a  good  life.  No  one,  for  example,  is  justified  in  so 
immersing  himself  in  intellectual  labour— worthy  a  purpose 
as  the  acquirement  of  knowledge  may  be — to  such  an 
extent  that  he  injures  his  health,  or  neglects  the  legitimate 
calls  of  others  upon  him.  The  question  we  should  ask 
ourselves  when  we  are  planning  a  course  of  action  is  : 
AVhat  will  be  its  total  effect  ?  In  other  words,  we  should 
cultivate  the  habitude  of  looking  at  life  as  a  whole,  and  not 
as  a  number  of  independent  pieces  of  conduct. 

It  follows  from  what  has  been  said  that  the  fact  that 
a  pleasure  is  innocent  in  itself  does  not  prove  that  it  is  right 
to  take  that  pleasure  in  any  one  case.  A  small  diamond 
in  one's  eye  would  be  beautiful  as  ever  as  a  diamond,  yet 
we  would  rather  dispense  with  its  presence.  We  must 
take  the  pleasure  in  its  conditions  and  ask  whether  the 
enjoyment  of  it  here  and  now  will  or  will  not  hinder  the 
duty  here  and  now  calling  us. 


64  DUTY. 

The  educator  must  try  to  induce  his  charges  to  look  for 
their  pleasure  in  their  duty ;  that  is,  to  be  interested  in 
right  purposes.  It  is  quite  antagonistic  to  this  to  hold  up 
duty  as  an  unpleasant  task  :  to  say  "  Do  this  (disagreeable 
thing)  because  it  is  your  duty."  Rather  should  the  child 
be  encouraged  to  look  ahead,  to  see  what  '  this '  is  to 
accomplish,  and  to  feel  that  it  is  worth  accomplishing. 
If  once  this  take  hold  of  him  he  will  go  through  with  the 
means,  disagreeable  though  they  may  be.  To  him  "  the 
end  justifies  the  means  "  in  the  only  sense  in  which  that  say- 
ing is  true.  No  true  boy  shrinks  from  learning  football 
because  he  will  receive  many  hard  knocks  and  painful  con- 
tusions in  the  process.  Rather  does  he  pine  for  bruises 
and  is  proud  of  scars  as  signs  that  he  is  becoming  a  worthy 
member  of  his  side. 

Experience  has  crystallized  the  common  forms  of  duty 
into  maxims  or  rules,  such  as  the  rules  of 
M0nfllM°f"  veracity,  of  industry,  of  helpfulness,  of 
courtesy,  of  kindliness.  These  rules  underlie 
all  sound  discipline,  so  that  they  may  become  habitudes 
before  they  are  explicitly  recognised  as  duties.1  Now 
there  may  arise  cases  in  which  two  of  these  rules  seem  to 
conflict,  and  then  we  have  the  most  frequent  cause  of  real 
doubt  as  to  what  duty  demands.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  there  can  never  be  a  real  conflict  of  duty ;  for  duty  is 
always  to  do  the  best  possible. 

We  are,  however,  apt  to  take  these  abstract  generalisa- 
tions very  absolutely,  and  to  forget  that  they  are  abstract 
— that  is,  they  take  no  account  of  circumstances — and 
further  that  they  are  only  general  directions,  and  not 
ultimate  laws.  For  example,  a  loved  mother  is  dangerously 
ill  and  the  doctor  has  warned  the  family  that  any  shock 
must  be  immediately  fatal.     The  news  arrives  of  the  death 

1  Cf.  p.  3<). 


DUTY.  65 

of  an  absent  son.  In  ordinary  circumstances  it  would  be 
the  duty  of  those  at  home  to  break  the  sad  news  to  the 
mother.  Now  it  is  obviously  their  duty  to  conceal  it  from 
her,  yea,  even  if  she  ask  after  the  absent  one.  Then  the 
men?  suppression  of  the  truth  must  be  replaced  by  a 
falsehood ;  for  silence  would  at  once  by  awakening  sus- 
picion give  the  fatal  shock.  The  examination  of  such  a 
case  makes  it  clear  that  the  abstract  generalisations  of 
moral  experience  cannot  be  applied  unhesitatingly  in 
unusual  circumstances.  They  are  most  useful  guides  to 
ordinary  conduct,  but  they  do  not  absolve  us  from  the 
necessity  of  examining  circumstances  and  of  judging  for 
ourselves  after  we  have  analysed  and  weighed  them  to  the 
best  of  our  power.  Happily,  such  cases  are  exceptional, 
and  our  rules  do  apply  in  the  great  majority  of  cases. 
Nor  should  they  be  violated  lightly.  Let  us  always  be 
certain  that  such  violation  is  really  at  the  call  of  duty  and 
not  at  that  of  inclination  or  of  mere  expediency. 

Children,  however,  are  not  called  upon  to  solve  such 
problems.  If  they  are  in  doubt  they  should  seek  advice 
from  their  educators,  and  their  duty  consists  in  following 
that  advice,  and  generally  in  acting  in  conformity  with  the 
rules  of  conduct  laid  down  for  them  by  authority.  "  As 
Plato  and  Aristotle  urged  long  ago,  the  chief  thing  in 
education  is  that  the  young  soul  should  learn  with  all  its 
might  to  love  good  and  to  hate  evil."1  And  the  con- 
tinually  applied  test  for  them  is  the  approval  or  disapproval 
of  those  who  embody  for  them  the  moral  law.  The 
essential  thing  is  that  they  be  taught  to  think  of  duty  as 
the  rightness  of  actual  deeds,  and,  therefore,  as  abiding 
in  their  veiw  lives,  not  as  abstract  laws  outside  them. 

The  examination  of  the  concept  of  duty  brings  home 
to  us  that  goodness  must  be  found  in  acts  as  well  as  in 

1  Euckeu  :  op.  cit.,  p.  5. 
M.  D.  S,  5 


66  DUTY. 

intentions.  In  other  words,  a  person  must  consider  the 
consequences  of  his  conduct  and  how  it  will  affect  others 
as  well  as  the  desires  or  reasons  which  prompt  him  so  to 
act.  To  look  only  at  motive  is  to  take  a  purely  abstract 
view ;  for  the  motive  is  only  one  of  many  factors  in  an 
actual  piece  of  life.  Duty  is  found  in  the  actual  piece  of 
life  itself  in  all  its  complexity  and  concreteness.  Indeed, 
in  the  ultimate  analysis  a  motive  is  not  thoroughly  good 
unless  it  take  all  the  circumstances  into  account.  But 
we  are  apt  to  isolate  it,  and  to  think  we  are  praiseworthy 
so  longr  as  Ave  mean  well  in  general.  Much  evil  follows 
from  this.  For  we  too  often  feel  ourselves  dispensed  from 
the  obligation  to  learn  all  we  can  about  the  matters  in 
which  we  take  a  share,  or  the  real  wishes  and  needs  of 
those  whom  our  conduct  may  affect.  It  has,  indeed,  been 
said  that  more  harm  has  been  wrought  in  the  world 
by  well-intentioned  folly  than  by  deliberate  villainy. 
However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  many  worthy 
people  make  it  very  difficult  for  one  to  follow  the  apostle's 
example  and  "  suffer  fools  gladly."  We  are  on  safe  ground 
only  when  we  accustom  ourselves  to  look  at  duty  and 
goodness  as  qualities  of  all  actual  pieces  of  life — as  the 
finding  the  best  course  in  the  actual  circumstances  in  which 
we  are  placed  and  then  the  energetic  following  of  that 
course  regardless  of  our  own  private  and  varying  incli- 
nations. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


VIRTUE. 


1.  In  the  last  chapter  we  readied  the  conclusion  thai 
duty   becomes   an   inward   spring    of   action 
v^  t^  °  prompting  us   to    satisfy   claims    which    we 

recognise  as  obligations.  Of  course,  so  long 
as  there  is  conflict  between  this  desire  to  do  what  we  know 
to  be  right  and  our  inclinations,  the  fulfilment  of  duty 
is  devoid  of  joy,  even  if  it  be  not  positively  disagreeable. 
The  growth  of  the  habitude  of  duty,  indeed,  tends  to  make 
it  more  disagreeable  to  neglect  than  to  fulfil  our  moral 
obligations ;  for  even  when  the  exercise  of  a  habitude  is 
not  positively  pleasant  its  inhibition  is  always  to  some 
degree  unpleasant.  Yet  it  is  only  when  the  conflict  is 
removed,  and  the  following  of  the  habitude  of  duty  gives 
us  true  pleasure  that  we  throw  ourselves  into  it  with  our 
whole  heart  and  soul,  so  that  it  becomes  in  the  fullest  sense 
of  the  words,  a  willing  service. 

So  long  as  there  is  conflict  there  is  a  deflexion  of  energy 
from  the  conduct  itself  to  the  conquest  of  the  opposing 
impulse.  Even  when  actual  conflict  is  absent,  activity 
devoid  of  joy  is  never  as  energetic  and  effective  as  that 
into  which  we  throw  our  whole  being ;  indeed,  in  such 
cases  we  have  to  overcome  inertia  of  will  if  not  an  opposed 
tendency  of  will.  So,  the  fullest  excellence  of  human  con- 
duct is  reached  only  when  there    is   an  unhindered  and 

67 


68  VIRTUE. 

joyous  doing  of  duty.  Activity  into  which  the  whole  self 
of  inclination  and  will  is  thrown  is  attended  by  a  feeling  of 
exaltation  of  soul  and  expansion  of  being  which  seems  to 
raise  one  above  the  limitations  of  earth  and  to  put  one's 
life  on  a  higher  spiritual  plane.  "  Work  perfected  sheweth 
man  likest  God."  It  is  such  perfection  of  life  and  conduct 
which  we  mean  by  Virtue. 

Virtue,  then,  we  take  to  be  excellence  of  living — the 
approximation  to  human  perfection.  This  is  in  harmony 
with  the  meaning  the  Greeks  attached  to  arete — a  word 
which  became  with  the  Latins  virtus,  from  which  we  derive 
'  virtue.'  The  Greek  conception  of  arete  was  '  character- 
istic excellence,'  and  it  was  applied  to  many  things  besides 
human  conduct.  The  arete  of  a  thing  was  the  excellence 
with  which  it  fulfilled  its  appropriate  function :  the  arete 
of  a  knife,  for  example,  was  to  cut  well ;  the  arete  of  a 
physician,  simply  as  a  physician,  to  prevent  or  to  conquer 
diseases.  Thus  every  occupation  in  life  had  its  special 
arete.  The  question  then  arose  whether  human  life  in 
general  had  its  arete ;  that  is,  whether  there  is  a  character- 
istic which  makes  any  human  life  excellent,  and  in  so  doing, 
takes  up  into  itself  the  subordinate  excellencies  of  occupa- 
tion and  function  so  far  as  they  are  within  the  control  of 
the  individual ;  that  is,  are  matters  of  his  will  and  not  of 
his  circumstances  or  of  his  innate  limitations  of  capacity. 

2.  The  answer  to  this  question  carries  us  at  once  to 

the  conception  of  duty  as  a  fulfilment  of  all 
Virtue  and  the  fuuctions   of  ]jfe       TIms  virtue  ig   seen 

to  be  not  something  separable  from  duty,  but 
merely  the  best  performance  of  duty.  It  is  the  subjective 
side  of  duty  in  its  fullness.  It  is  not  an  abstraction  to  be 
dimly  admired  as  something  beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary 
mortals,  and  only  attainable  by  the  chosen  few  in  rare 
moments  of  spiritual  exaltation.     Every  act  of  duty  well 


VIRTUE.  69 

and  heartilv  done  is  a  virtuous  act  ;  s<>  we  can  be  virtuous 

in  all  we  <lo. 

We  do,  indeed,  often  speak  of  virtue  as  going  beyond 
duty.     We   say,   for    instance,   that    Howard    would    have 

fulfilled  his  dutv  had  lie  lived  the  ordinary  honest  and 
self-respecting  life  of  a  citizen,  hut  that,  in  devoting  him- 
self to  prison  reform,  he  led  a  life  of  exceptional  virtue. 
Indeed,  as  we  have  seen,  in  judging  the  conduct  of  others 
such  a  distinction  is  not  out  of  place,  so  long  as  it  is  borne 
in  mind  that  by  'duty'  is  then  meant  only  that  average 
standard  of  decency  in  moral  conduct  which  is  all  we  feel 
justified  in  applying  to  the  lives  of  others.  "He  did  his 
duty,  and  nothing  more"  expresses  neither  condemna- 
tion nor  admiration.1 

When  conduct  stands  out  in  enthusiastic  whole-hearted  - 
ness  above  this  line  we  feel  the  need  of  a  word  to  express 
this  salience ;  and  '  virtuous '  does  exactly  express  it,  for 
it  implies  that  the  act  of  duty  has  been  excellently  done. 
But  to  the  man  himself,  and  to  each  of  us  when  judging 
himself,  there  can  be  no  such  distinction.  It  is  always  our 
duty  to  do  our  best,  and  the  really  willing  doing  of  our 
best  is  virtue. 

3.  Again,  we  speak  of  virtuous  or  of  vicious  acts.  But 
it  must  be  clearly  grasped  that  an  act  has 
H"rtrdnd  moral  quality  only  so  far  as  it  really  ex- 
presses the  life  of  the  individual.  A  mere 
impulse  may  lead  to  an  act  altogether  out  of  keeping 
with  the  general  tenour  of  the  life.  To  such  an  act 
either  term  would  be  inappropriate.  Virtues  and  vices 
are,  indeed,  habitudes,  or  trends  of  will  and  feeling,  which 
find  expression  in  characteristic  acts  to  which  the  terms 
'virtuous'  and  'vicious'  are  applicable  in  a  secondary 
sense.     Thus,  dishonesty  is  a  vice  which  manifests  itself 

1  Cf.  pp.  59-61. 


70  VIRTUE. 

in  acts  of  theft  and  cheating ;  cruelty  a  vice  showing  itself 
in  deeds  which  give  needless  pain.  But  a  boy  may  give 
pain,  say  to  one  of  the  lower  animals,  without  being  cruel ; 
though,  undoubtedly,  he  is  on  the  way  to  becoming  cruel. 
In  dealing  with  the  young  it  is  ever  most  important  to 
remember  that  in  them  virtues  and  vices,  and  all  other 
habitudes,  are  in  an  early  stage  of  development,  and, 
consequently,  that  the  standards  which  are  applicable  to 
adult  conduct  are  liable  to  lead  us  astray  in  our  dealings 
with  the  immature.  Much  harm  is  often  done  by  the 
assumption  that  a  wrong  act  done  by  a  child  indicates  the 
same  evil  trend  of  spiritual  life  as  it  would  in  an  adult 
life.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  remembered  that  such 
acts,  if  not  checked,  will  develop  the  evil  tendency.  Indeed, 
the  thoughtless  impulsiveness  of  childhood  should  little 
by  little  be  modified  by  the  practice  of  consideration  for 
others,  or  it  will  cultivate  the  habitude  of  callous  disregard 
of  how  our  acts  affect  our  fellows.  In  it,  that  is  to  say,  is 
a  germ  of  selfishness,  only  to  be  kept  in  check  by  culture 
of  the  opposed  impulse  to  kindness  and  affection. 

That  virtues  and  vices  are  habitudes,  taken  up  and 
absorbed  in  good  or  evil  general  purposes,  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  the  virtuous  man  is  never  conscious  of  his  virtues 
as  such.  The  benevolent  man  does  not  deliberatelv  set  out 
to  be  benevolent :  he  simply  responds  freely  and  gladly  to 
the  calls  made  on  his  benevolence.  His  satisfaction  is  in 
the  doing  of  the  kind  act;  for  in  the  highest  of  all  senses 
it  is  true  that  "  virtue  is  its  own  reward."  He  seeks  not 
the  applause  of  the  crowd,  which,  indeed,  distresses  him. 
The  virtue  which  requires  to  be  announced  by  trumpet  and 
drum  is  as  open  to  suspicion  as  is  the  excellence  of  other 
things  which  escape  obscurity  only  by  blatant  advertise- 
ment. So  the  vicious  man  does  not  deliberately  set  himself 
to  be  vicious.     He  also  responds  to  circumstances,  and  acts 


VIRTUE.  71 

in  a  way  from  which  he  anticipates  gratification,  without 
troubling  himself  about  the  moral  quality  of  what  be  does. 

Like  all  habitudes,  virtues  and  vices  may  grow  largely 
unconsciously.  A  child  forms  a  bad  habit  and  finds 
pleasure  in  it.  So  the  habitude  grows.  But  in  many  cases 
he  does  not  know  that  the  habit  is  a  bad  one  till  it  is 
firmly  established.  While  he  is  in  ignorance  his  outer 
conduct,  taken  by  itself,  is  bad;  but  the  boy  is  not 
vicious,  because  he  is  sinning  in  ignorance.  Of  course, 
when  once  a  suspicion  of  the  evil  of  his  acts  is  aroused  the 
case  is  changed.  But  a  vicious  habit  cannot  be  laid  aside 
in  a  day.  Indeed  he  knows  not  its  strength  till  he  tries  to 
break  it.  Then  the  full  grown  vice  fetters  him  on  every 
side,  and,  fight  as  he  will,  at  times  overthrows  him.  But 
so  long  as  he  struggles  manfully  against  it  he  is  doing  his 
best  and  is  attaining  virtue,  even,  it  may  be,  amid  many 
backslidings.  That  paradox — the  virtuous  sinner — is  as 
frequent  in  our  day  as  in  the  far  off  times  of  David  and 
Saint  Peter. 

4.  If  it  be  objected  that  the  statement  that  virtue  is 

the  whole-hearted  and  joyous  fulfilment  of 

Virtue  and         duty,  and  that  it  is  this  which  makes  human 
Purpose.  . 

life  excellent  is  purely  abstract,  yet  it  must 

be  remembered  that  duty  itself  can  only  be  conceived  in 

relation  to  what  are  believed  to  be  the  great  objects  of 

human  endeavour,  and  hence  that  virtue  is  as  concrete  as 

duty,  that  is,  as  life  itself. 

The  great  objects  of  men's  pursuit  are  necessarily  two- 
fold— the  material  things  of  life  and  the  spiritual  develop- 
ment of  life  itself. 

As  man's  sustenance  has  to  be  won  by  his  labour,  and 

as  not  only  bare  sustenance  but  leisure  and 

Materialism.  „  ,     ...       ,        ,  .     ,        „    n     .        .,, 

comtort  are  legitimate  objects  ot  desire,  it, 

indeed,  they  be  not  necessary  conditions  of  some  of  the 


72  VIRTUE. 

highest  forms  of  spiritual  life,  so  striving  for  material  goods 

must  of  necessity  take  up  a  large  share  of  man's  thoughts 

and  energies.    But  when  it  is  forgotten  that,  after  all,  these 

things   are   only   means   to    render  life  fuller  and   richer 

and,  therefore,  more  satisfying,  and  they  themselves  are 

made  the  essential  objects  of  endeavour,  then  the  spiritual 

life  is  more  and  more  dwarfed ;  for  all  the  habitudes  which 

oppose  self-aggrandisement  are  inhibited.    Thus,  the  life  is 

narrowed,  and  is  made  a  mere  provider  of  its  own  trappings. 

It  recedes  farther  and  farther  from  the  ideal  of  human 

excellence :  in  a  word,  it  becomes  in  essence  more  and  more 

vicious,  though  its  acts  may  not  be  those  to  which  common 

parlance  restricts  the  term.    As  R.  L.  Stevenson  warns  us  : 

"  Perpetual  devotion  to  what  a  man  calls  his  business  is 

only  to  be  sustained  by  perpetual  neglect  of  many  other 

things.     And  it  is  not  by  any  means  certain  that  a  man's 

business  is  the  most  important  thing  he  has  to  do."  1 

But  the  pursuit  of  material  good  may  take   a   second 

form — that  of  seeking  for  sense  enjoyment. 

T^118^  Here,  again,  it  must  be  granted  that  such 

tionahsni.  '      °       '  &# 

pleasures  are  not  only  legitimate  but  benefi- 
cent: without  them  life  would  be  dull  and  drab.  The  evil 
again  conies  when  their  pursuit  is  made  the  end  of  life. 
Then,  indeed,  there  is  no  real  purpose  in  life  at  all ;  for 
the  pleasures  of  sense  are  fleeting,  and  must  be  sought 
from  moment  to  moment.  Hence  the  growth  of  the  desire 
ever  for  something  new — some  fresh  excitement,  some 
novel  spur  to  the  jaded  appetite.  Yet,  with  it  all,  the  soul 
rests  empty  and  unsatisfied.  Delude  ourselves  as  we  will 
for  a  time  with  the  idea  that  the  insensate  and  breath- 
less pursuit  of  pleasure  will  "  bring  a  man  peace  at  the 
last,"  yet  at  the  end  the  wearied  soul  exclaims  with  the 
Preacher :   "  Vanity  of  vanities  :  all  is  vanity  and  vexation 

1  An  Apology  for  Idlers. 


VIRTUE.  73 

of  spirit."      No  feature  of  our  time  is  more  sadly  signifi- 
cant than  the  growing  sensationalism  which  is  the  outward 

sign  that  this  has   hecome  the  practical  rule  of  life   with 
many  of  our  countrymen  and  countrywomen. 

Nor  are  these  two  forms  of  a  materialistic   Life  incompa- 
tible:  many,  indeed,  combine  them.    Certain 
Material  and     it  is  that  in  one  or  other  form  a  materialistic 
Aims  Ua  evaluation  of  life   is  increasingly   prevalent. 

"  Will  it  pay  " — in  gain  or  in  pleasure  ?  is  too 
often  the  only  question  asked  not  only  with  reference  to 
proposed  courses  of  action  in  which  it  is  a  legitimate  test, 
but  in  reference  to  all  actions.  To  measure  all  life  by  thing  - 
of  earth  is  the  surest  way  to  lose  half  the  good  even  of  those 
earthly  things.  Far  wiser  was  the  Hebrew  preacher  when  he 
said  "  Wisdom  is  better  than  rubies  ;  and  all  the  things  that 
may  be  desired  are  not  to  be  compared  to  it." l  And '  wisdom ' 
meant  virtue.  Indeed,  from  our  consideration  of  virtue  it 
is  plain  that  it  is  the  only  true  wisdom ;  for  the  essence  of 
wisdom  can  only  be  to  get  the  most  and  the  best  out  of  life. 
"  Therefore  may  virtue  be  said  to  be  (as  it  were)  a  wisdom 
and  an  understanding  to  choose  the  good  :  and  vice,  a  lack  of 
foresight  and  an  ignorance  that  leadeth  to  judge  falsely. 
Because  men  never  choose  the  ill  with  opinion  that  it  is  ill, 
but  they  are  deceived  through  a  certain  likeness  of  good."" : 
Wisdom,  therefore,  is  concerned  with  the  accumulation 
of  the  material  goods  of  life  only  in  so  far  as  they  promote 
the  growth  of  life  itself.  And  Buskin  wisely  tells  us  :  "  He 
only  is  advancing  in  life,  whose  heart  is  getting  softer, 
whose  blood  warmer,  whose  brain  quicker,  whose  spirit  is 
entering  into  Living  peace.  And  the  men  who  have  this 
life  in  them  are  the  true  lords  or  kings  of  the  earth — they 
and  they  only."3 

1  Proverbs  viii.  11.  -  Castiglione :  op.  cit.,  Bk.  IV. 

3  Sesame  and  Lilies,  §  42. 


74  VIRTUE. 

Virtue,  then,  as  excellence  of  living,  means  spiritual 
growth  and  development,  and  this  is  not  to  be  gauged  by 
worldly  success.  But  in  trying  to  foster  this  truth  in  the 
minds  of  children  we  must  carefully  guard  against  an 
exaggeration  which  in  this  materialistic  age  will  appear 
absurd  to  them,  and  so  give  their  minds  an  impulse  in  the 
opposite  direction.  The  things  of  this  world,  and  the 
pleasures  of  existence  are  good  and  desirable :  it  is  only 
when  a  life  has  no  higher  purpose  than  their  pursuit  that 
they  become  evil  to  that  soul.  Life  must  be  largely  filled 
with  work  having  a  material  aim  and  its  pleasures  must 
always  include  those  of  sense ;  it  is  only  when  it  finds  room 
for  nothing  else  that  spiritual  atrophy  sets  in.  Thus  the 
school  should  show  that  it  values  work  of  all  kinds,  and 
that  it  encourages  honest  enjoyment.  But  it  should  also 
try  to  implant  ideals  of  spiritual  life,  and  to  water  them 
and  tend  them,  so  harmonizing  them  with  the  ordinary 
work  and  play  that  these  latter  are  permeated  by  the 
former  and  themselves  given  a  spiritual  value.  Thus,  the 
pru-pose  to  do  well  whatever  one  is  called  on  to  do,  whether 
in  work  or  in  play,  whether  one  enjoy  it  or  not,  is  a  lesson 
the  school  is  continually  called  on  to  teach  in  the  only  way 
in  which  it  can  effectively  be  taught — by  practice.  To  take 
away  all  the  unpleasant  and  make  school  work  itself  little 
more  than  amusement  is  not  only  to  fail  in  teaching  this 
lesson,  but  is  to  cultivate  the  vicious  habitude  of  making 
enjoyment  the  arbiter  of  duty,  and  this  leads  directly  to 
the  setting  up  of  pleasure  as  the  goal  of  effort. 
'  But  we  must  go  further  than  this.  For  virtue  is  not 
simply  habitude :  it  is  joyous  habitude  related 

orPufosT*      to  PurPose-     Tlie  scno°l  must,  therefore,  en- 
deavour to  rouse  the  enthusiasm  of  its  pupils 
for  high  and  noble  purposes  ;  or  as  it  is  often  put,  to  give 
them  ideals  of  life.     "  The  entire  object  of  true  education 


VIRTUE.  75 

is  to  make  people  not  merely  do  the  right  things,  but  enjoy 

the  right  things: — not  merely  industrious,  but  to  love 
industry — not  merely  learned,  but  to  love  knowledge  —not 
merely  pure,  but  to  love  purity— not  merely  just,  but  to 
hunger  and  thirst  after  justice.'11 

But,  as  George  Eliot  beautifully  says  :  "  Ideas  are  often 
poor  ghosts;  our  sun-filled  eyes  cannot  discern  them; 
they  pass  athwart  us  in  thin  vapour,  and  cannol  make 
themselves  felt.  But  sometimes  they  are  made  flesh ; 
they  breathe  upon  us  with  warm  breath,  they  touch  us 
with  soft  responsive  hands,  they  look  at  us  with  sad 
sincere  eyes,  and  speak  to  us  in  appealing  tones ;  they  are 
clothed  in  a  living  human  soul,  with  all  its  conflicts,  its 
faith,  and  its  love.  Then  their  presence  is  a  power,  then 
they  shake  us  like  a  passion,  and  we  are  drawn  after  them 
with  gentle  compulsion,  as  flame  is  drawn  to  flame."2 

True  as  this  is  of  adults,  it  is  yet  more  strikingly  applic- 
able to  children.  Everything  for  them  must  be  actual 
and  concrete ;  a  disembodied  virtue  leaves  them  quite 
untouched.  Vain  is  it  to  ask  them  to  discuss,  or  to  write 
essays  on,  Truth,  Courage,  and  the  like,  in  the  hope  that 
such  intellectual  exercises  will  have  an  effect  on  conduct. 
Ideas  are  directive  of  energy  only  when  the  energy  is 
already  there,  and  to  some  extent  accustomed  to  flow  into 
a  cognate  channel.  In  other  words,  the  beginnings  of 
habitudes  first,  then  ideas  taking  them  up  and  using  them 
and  so  making  them  more  effective,  is  the  true  order. 
And  well  will  it  be  if  by  the  time  a  child  leaves  school — 
especially  the  primary  school — his  moral  life  have  made  a 
good  beginning ;  if  he  have  habitudes  illumined  by  such 
simple  and  fruitful  ideas  as  transmute  them  from  blind 
adherence  to  the  customary  into  intelligent  purpose ;  and 

1  Ruskin  :   The  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,  §  55. 

2  Janet's  Repentance,  Ch.  XIX. 


76  VIRTUE. 

if  he  be  inspired  by  aspirations,  vague  it  may  be  but  gene- 
rous, to  make  his  life  something  beyond  the  dead  treadmill 
round  of  a  self-absorbed  pursuit  of  wealth  or  pleasure. 
"  An  aspiration  is  a  joy  for  ever,  a  possession  as  solid  as  a 
landed  estate,  a  fortune  which  we  can  never  exhaust  and 
which  gives  us  year  by  year  a  revenue  of  pleasurable 
activity.  To  have  many  of  these  is  to  be  spiritually 
rich."1  But  this  will  be  attained  just  in  proportion  as 
the  ideas  are  presented  in  embodied  form,  so  as  to  offer  a 
concrete  model  for  imitation.  It  is  round  hero  or  heroine 
that  youthful  enthusiasm  clings,  not  round  tabulated 
qualities.  Patriotism  and  bravery  as  abstractions  mean 
little :  embodied  in  Nelson  and  Grenville  they  mean  much. 
Further,  let  it  be  remembered  that  adolescence  is  em- 
phatically the  age  of  hero  worship ;  and,  therefore,  let  no 
discouragement  be  felt  if  in  earlier  childhood  but  few 
signs  of  enthusiasm  even  for  embodied  virtues  show  them- 
selves. Childhood  is  the  age  for  the  cultivation  of  habi- 
tudes, and  that  is  the  only  true  and  sure  foundation  on 
which  the  life  of  ideals  can  be  built.  Without  it,  enthusi- 
asm for  ideals  is  more  apt  to  run  to  seed  in  sentimentality 
than  to  bear  fruit  in  good  works. 

Even  the  susceptibility  of  adolescents  to  the  contagion 
of  ideals  varies  very  much.  Many  are  essentially  practical, 
in  the  sense  in  which  that  word  is  used  to  indicate  an 
exaltation  in  estimation  of  the  shell  of  life  above  its 
kernel,  and  this  attitude  of  mind  is  fostered  by  the  life 
around  them.  A  much  smaller  number  are  naturally 
idealists.  "  The  difference  between  realist  and  idealist  is 
vital.  The  realist  tends  to  be  content  with  the  idea  of 
life-career  and  character  which  is  obvious  in  the  facts  of  life 
as  he  sees  it  around  him.  His  intelligence  moves  in  and 
round  the  concrete  reality  and  is  slow  to  reach  towards 

1  R.  L.  Stevenson  :  El  Dorado. 


VIRTUE.  77 


the  general  and  abstract.  Tims  conventional  standards 
and  obvious  materialistic  aims  not  only  appeal  to  him  as 
to  all,  but  are  apt  to  absorb  him — position  in  society,  a 
balance  at  the  bank,  a  good  name,  a  respectable  record. 
The  idealist,  on  the  other  hand,  instinctively  directs  him- 
self, with  a  movement  of  intelligence,  passionate  because 
whole,  to  the  old  enquiry  about  the  highest  good  of 
man,  the  best  kind  of  life,  the  best  kind  of  person.  .  .  . 
Probably  the  born  idealist  ...  is  somewhat  rare.  .  .  .  But 
it  cannot  be  doubted  that  there  are  many  who  may  be 
educated  to  a  considerable  development  of  the  idealising 
strain ;  and  indeed  I  doubt  that  there  are  many  young 
persons  so  crassly  realistic  in  natural  bent  as  to  be  inca- 
pable of  idealistic  impulses  at  least  occasionally.  These 
impulses  it  is  the  business  of  the  school,  by  means  direct 
and  indirect,  to  foster."1 

5.  As  virtue  is  co-extensive  with  duty,  and  duty  with 
life,   it  is  impossible   effectively  to  classify 

Analysis  of  virtuous  acts.  No  classification  could  be 
Virtue.  .  .     .     . 

exhaustive,  for  it  is  impossible  to  enumer- 
ate all  the  possibilities  of  action  ;  and  no  determination  of 
classes  could  be  so  exact  that  a  certain  act  could  always 
be  placed  in  one,  and  only  one,  class.  Is  not  the  timid 
boy's  refusal  of  a  lie  as  an  escape  from  punishment  an  act 
of  courage  as  well  as  of  truth  ?  And  may  not  another 
boy's  telling  of  a  lie  to  save  a  comrade  from  punishment, 
even  at  the  cost  of  bringing  it  on  himself,  be  an  act  of 
courage,  self-sacrifice,  and  devotion  to  another  or  to  an 
accepted  code  of  honour,  and  so  show  virtue  embedded,  as 
it  were,  in  vice  ?  May  not  such  a  boy  be  doing  the  best 
he  knows,  though  the  adult  may  not  agree  with  his 
estimation  of  the  requirements  of  the  case  ? 

1    Mrs.   Bryant  :  Essay  on    Moral   Education   in    General   in    Moral 
Instruction  and  Training  in  Schools,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  52-53, 


78  VIRTTTE. 

It  is  not  unusual,  however,  to  classify  duties  into  those 
which  refer  to  ourselves  and  those  which  relate  to  others. 
But  besides  the  obvious  objection  that  there  can  be  no 
obligation,  that  is,  no  duty,  unless  there  be  two  terms 
in  the  relation,  analysis  soon  shows  that  no  duty  can 
concern  ourselves  only,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  none  can 
be  limited  to  others.  Much  wiser  is  the  Church  Catechism 
in  including  the  duties  "  to  keep  my  body  in  temperance, 
soberness,  and  chastity  "  as  part  of  "  my  duty  towards  my 
neighbour." 

But  though  the  number  and  variety  of  the  parts  of  the 
objective  world  with  which  our  acts  bring  us  into  relation 
are  indefinitely  large,  yet,  as  was  seen  in  the  first  chapter, 
the  subjective  aspects  are  broadly  those  of  willing,  feeling, 
and  thinking,  each  of  which  enters  into  every  such  relation.1 
We  may,  then,  look  at  the  specific  excellences  of  these  aspects, 
and  from  that  examination  gather  what  are  the  broad  fea- 
tures  of  a  virtuous  life,  each  of  which  will  be  found  in  every 
virtuous  act,  though  in  different  proportions,  so  that  the 
predominant  one  gives  a  specific  character  to  the  act  as  a 
whole.  So  far  as  an  act  is  one  of  will  it  is  persistent 
against  obstacles  and  dangers,  and  is  courageous  ;  so  far 
as  it  is  one  of  feeling  it  contemns  the  solicitations  of  the 
appetites,  and  is  temperate ;  so  far  as  it  is  one  of  thinking 
and  understanding  it  is  wise.  In  a  word  these  forms  of 
virtue  are  severally  opposed  to  "  the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  devil."  Then,  when  attention  is  turned  from  the 
subjective  side  to  the  relation  of  the  whole  act,  with  all 
its  subjective  factors  harmonized,  to  our  fellow  men,  we 
find  the  quality  of  justice. 

These  four  are  the  traditional  '  Cardinal  Virtues,'  which 
we  have  inherited  both  from  Hebrew  and  from  Greek 
thought.      In  the    Wisdom  of  Solomon  we  read:    "If  a 

1  See  pp.  14-15. 


VIRTUE.  79 

man  love  righteousness,  her  labours  are  virtues :  for  she 
teacheth  temperance  and  prudence,  justice  and  fortitude : 
which  are  such  things,  as  men  can  have  nothing  more 
profitable  in  their  life."1  As  a  basis  for  analysis  the  dis- 
tinction serves  better  than  any  of  the  more  elaborate 
attempts  which  modern  writers  have  made  at  a  'classifi- 
cation of  the  virtues,'  which  simply  darken  counsel,  not 
only  by  separating  what  should  be  conjoined,  but  by 
encouraging  the  idea  that  virtue  and  duty  are  particular 
kinds  of  acts  and  not  qualities  of  all  acts. 

We  will,  then,  briefly  consider  virtue  under  each  of 
these  four  heads,  but  again  begging  the  reader  to  bear  in 
mind  that  we  are  dealing  not  with  separate  classes  of  acts, 
but  with  various  aspects  under  which  every  virtuous  action 
may  be  viewed,  though  one  aspect  may  be  more  striking 
than  others  in  this  or  that  deed.  In  other  words,  the 
cardinal  virtues  are  four  habitudes  which  always  operate 
together.  Which  plays  the  greatest  part  on  this  or  that 
occasion  is  determined  by  the  nature  of  the  circumstances 
which  call  them  all  into  play. 

6.  Wisdom  refers  both  to  the  direction  of  life  as  a  whole 
and  to  the  planning  of  means  to  attain 
accepted  ends.  In  the  latter  case  it  may  be 
called  prudence,  a  word  too  often  narrowed  in  its  reference 
to  merely  material  aims  and  self  interests.2  A  man  who 
carefully  looks  after  his  health,  his  ease,  his  advancement 
in  social  position,  his  safety  in  danger,  is  prudent.  Such 
prudence  may  easily  be  carried  too  far  when  personal  ease 
or  even  safetv  is  secured  at  the  cost  of  something  higher 
and  nobler. 

But  the  word  is  equally  applicable  to  working  for  spiritual 
ends,  and  then  it  shows  more  nobly.     It  is,  for  example, 
prudent  for  one  struggling  to  free  himself  from  the  yoke 
1  Wisdom  viii.  7.  2  Cf.  p.  46. 


80  VIRTUE. 

of  an  evil  habit  to  avoid  occasions  of  temptation.     To  him 
"  discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valour."    To  thrust  oneself 
into  a  temptation  which  one  more  than  suspects  one  is  not 
strong  enough  to  overcome  is  not  courage  but  recklessness. 
There  is  no  wisdom  in  giving  oneself  every  opportunity  to 
fail  in  that  on  which  one  has  set  one's  heart.     Yet,  even 
here  prudence  should  not  become  moral  cowardice.     To  be 
over    anxious  in  anticipating  difficulties  and  dangers,  to 
think  too  much  of  the  trouble  and  wearisome  details  of 
reaching  a  high  end,  is  paralysing.     Faith  and  hope,  and  a 
certain  amount  of  dash  and  daring  carry  us  through  many 
perils,  and  we  are  safe  out  on  the  other  side  before  we 
have  time  to  fail.       To   brood   over  the   streno-th  of  the 
temptations  which  beset  us  is  to  forget  that  we  are  never 
"  tempted  above  that  we  are  able  to  bear."     To  recognise 
that  there  is  danger,  and  to  shrink  from  all  danger,   are 
two  very  different  things.     In  a  word,  prudence  is  but  one 
aspect  of  virtue :  and  courage  is  another.     We  do  well  to 
consider  R.  L.  Stevenson's  words :  "  As  courage  and  in- 
telligence are  the  two  qualities  best  worth  a  good  man's 
cultivation,  so  it  is  the  first  part  of  intelligence  to  recognise 
our  precarious  estate  in  life,  and  the  first  part  of  courage 
to  be  not  at  all  abashed  before  the  fact.       A  frank  and 
somewhat  headlong  carriage,   not   looking   too   anxiously 
before,    not  dallying    in    maudlin   regret   over   the   past, 
stamps  the  man  who  is  well  armoured  for  this  world."1 

As  has  been  already  seen,  duty  is  found  in  the  common 
actions  of  life,  and  virtue  consists  in  iovfullv  and  whole- 
heartedly  doing  our  best  in  our  circumstances.  But,  in 
order  that  we  may  do  this,  we  must  understand  the  cir- 
cumstances. To  mean  well  is  no  sufficient  guarantee  of 
doing  well,  though  there  is  no  doing  well  without  the 
good  will.     But  an  action  does  not  depend  on  our  intention 

1  JEs  Triple®, 


VIKTUK. 


SI 


alone,  but on  f  lie  human  and  materia]  world  with  which 
it  brings  us  into  relation.  "If  wishes  were  wings,  who 
would  walk?"  But  ;is  ;i  desire  fco  ll\  helps  one  QOl  al  all 
to  overcome  the  force  of  gravital  ion,  so  the  desire  to  do  good 
is  often  quite  ineffective — may  even,  indeed.  Lead  to  disas- 
trous results — unless  it  be  combined  with  insight  into  the 
circumstances  and  with  power  to  apply  the  lessons  of  experi- 
ence and  precept  in  dealing  with  them.  So,  if  we  would  be 
virtuous,  we  must  add  to  our  beneficent  sentiments  a  real 
attempt  to  understand  the  true  principles  of  conduct,  and 
to  trace  in  thought  the  probable  consequences  of  our 
actions.  This  being  done,  our  motive  has  developed  from 
a  mere  feeling  of  attraction  into  an  intelligently  con- 
ceived result  following  naturally  on  a  well  planned  line  of 
conduct. 

Virtue,  then,  is  not  a  mechanical  following  of  precedents 
and  formulas,  nor  is  it  merelv  the  bountiful  ebullition  of 
sympathy,  benevolence,  or  pity  ;  for  both  lack  intelligence. 
It  always  involves  a  full  grasp  of  the  special  case,  and.  a 
power  of  anticipating  and  judging  results.  It  is  the 
expression  of  an  emotional  tendency  directed  by  our  highest 
intelligence  and  kept  steady  by  a  determined  will. 

This  means  that  every  good  act  is  wTise,  as  well  as  kindly 
and  earnest.  It  is  wise  in  that  we  have  weighed  our 
purpose  and  decided  that  it  is  good ;  it  is  further  wise  in 
that  having  chosen  our  end  we  have  considered  the  various 
means  to  its  attainment  and  selected  from  among  them.  A 
virtuous  act  is,  therefore,  a  well  considered  act.  Nor  is  this 
in  opposition  to  the  habitual  character  of  virtue  ;  for  it  is  to 
the  act,  not  to  its  virtuous  character,  that  attention  is  given. 
The  purpose  is  not  to  be  virtuous  in  this  or  that  way,  but 
to  do  this  or  that  specific  act,  or  to  enter  on  this  or  that 
specific  course  of  conduct.  Were  it  not  for  the  habitual 
trend  of  the  mind  the  act  would  probably  not  be  chosen  ; 
m.  d.  s.  0 


82  VIRTUE. 

when  it  is  chosen,  the  same  habitude  is  operative  in  its 
accompli  shment . 

So  virtue  is  seen  to  be  a  matter  of  the  head  as  well  as  of 
the  heart.  At  bottom  there  must,  indeed,  be  the  spoil' 
taneous  warmth  of  emotion,  the  heart  going  forth  to  the 
proposed  end,  but  the  head  must  guide  and  direct,  and  the 
will  must  keep  the  purpose  firm.  As  this  is  so,  the  attain- 
ment of  such  wisdom  as  he  is  capable  of  is  the  duty  of 
everyone  ;  for  everyone  is  called  to  be  virtuous.  This  must 
not  be  regarded  as  rendering  virtue  impossible ;  for,  as 
Heraclitus  of  old  pointed  out,  a  man  does  not  become  wise 
by  accumulation  of  much  information,  but  by  the  develop- 
ment of  intelligent  understanding.  The  good  life  is,  indeed, 
no  easy  thing ;  for  it  is  a  continual  solving  of  problems  of 
conduct.  But  neither  is  it  a  thing  of  excessive  difficulty  ; 
for  the  problems  are  seldom  beyond  our  power.  Virtuous 
habitudes  will  do  much  to  carry  us  cheerily  through  the 
ordinary  events  of  the  day,  so  long  as  those  habitudes  are 
not  mere  blind  tendencies,  but  are  under  the  direction  of  a 
wakeful  and  acute  intelligence  which  when  directed  towards 
moral  issues  we  call  moral  insight.  When  unusual  cases 
and  really  difficult  problems  do  arise  the  chief  habitude 
which  will  serve  us  is  that  of  deliberation,  combined  with  a 
readiness  to  face  the  problem  and  cheerfully  to  try  to  find 
its  solution,  and  a  willingness  to  seek  counsel  from  those 
wiser  than  ourselves. 

Every  separate  act  of  virtue,  therefore,  demands  wisdom 
in  choosing  the  end  and  wisdom  in  planning  the  means. 
Much  more  does  the  whole  set  of  life  demand  wisdom.  Of 
this  we  have  already  spoken,  and  it  is  sufficient  here  to 
point  out  that  in  this  no  one  is  left  to  his  own  unaided 
wisdom.  The  general  trend  of  his  life  is  given  him  while 
he  is  yet  unable  to  decide  for  himself,  and  wheu  he  grows 
old  enough  to  choose  his  own  way  he  has  to  enlighten  him 


VIRTUE.  83 

not  only  the  results  of  the  collective  wisdom  of  humanity 
but  the  testimony  of  Divine  Wisdom  itself,     [f  be  choose 

* 

wrongly  it  is  not  because  lie  is  < l«*iiic« I  sufficient  light   to 

guide  his  steps. 

It  is  evident  that  wisdom  should  grow  with  vein's,  but 

equally  evident  that  it  can  do  so  onlj  on  the 

Cultivation         condition  that  the  capacity  for  moral  under- 
of  Wisdom.  .  r. 

standing  is  exercised.     Mere  Length  of  days 

does  not  bring  wisdom.     To  have  thought  meanly,  desired 

ignobly,  and  felt  selfishly  for  three  score  years  and  ten  is 

not  to  have  advanced  in  the  true  wisdom  of  life.     It   is 

length  and  depth  and  fullness  of  real  moral  experience 

which  counts.     Thus,  the  man  who  never  reflects  on  the 

moral  value  of  his  life,  but  falls  into  a  mechanical  round 

of  traditional  observances  does  not  grow  in  nobility  and 

wealth  of  nature. 

There  is,  then,  a  twofold  duty  resting  on  the  educators 
of  children,  and,  consequently,  on  the  school  as  an  educa- 
tive organization.  While  fostering  habitudes  and  habits, 
they  must  yet  keep  the  moral  intelligence  alert,  and  give 
enlightenment  to  the  moral  understanding.  In  a  word, 
moral  teaching  as  well  as  moral  training  is  required.  Now, 
to  teach  an  idea  is  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  to  the  under- 
standing of  the  learner.  But  an  idea  of  conduct  becomes 
so  realised  only  through  the  conduct  itself.  A  boy  who 
has  withstood  a  danger — yea,  even  though  trembling  with 
fear- — because  he  feels  that  flight  would  be  unworthy  of 
him,  realises  what  courage  is  in  a  way  which  can  never  be 
reached  through  an  intellectual  analysis  of  the  concept. 

Thus,  moral  instruction  is  first  of  all  an  evoking  of  the 
will.  As  Dr.  Adler  said  in  his  address  on  the  Scope  and 
Aim  of  Ethical  Education,  delivered  before  the  First  Inter- 
national Moral  Education  Congress,  "  One  of  the  gravest 
perils  connected  with  ethical  education,  as  all  agree,  is  that 


84  VIRTUE. 

of  over-emphasizing  the  intellectual  side  of  it."  1  This  is 
emphatically  true  of  such  young  children  as  those  who 
attend  primary  schools.  In  the  older  classes  of  secondary 
schools  there  may  be  scope  for  some  more  or  less  theoretical 
discussion  of  moral  questions,  but  in  the  younger  classes  and 
in  the  primary  school  all  ethical  instruction  should  be  prac- 
tical and  directive.  Its  aim  should  be  conduct  enlightened 
by  understanding  and  inspired  with  righteous  emotion. 

Its  means  will  be  various,  and  set  lessons  on  moral 
duties  may  find  but  a  small  place  among  them.  Aristotle 
long  ago  pointed  out  that  though  theories  of  conduct  "  are 
potent  to  guide  and  to  stimulate  liberal-minded  young  men, 
and  though  a  generous  disposition,  with  a  sincere  love  of 
wdiat  is  noble,  may  by  them  be  opened  to  the  influence  of 
virtue,  yet  they  are  powerless  to  turn  the  mass  of  men  to 
goodness.  .  .  .  As  for  theory  or  instruction,  I  fear  that 
it  cannot  avail  in  all  cases,  but  that  the  hearer's  soul  must 
be  prepared  by  training  it  to  feel  delight  and  aversion  on 
the  right  occasions,  just  as  the  soil  must  be  prepared  if  the 
seed  is  to  thrive."2 

The  schools  are  not  dealing  with  the  "  liberal-minded 
young  men  "  of  whom  Aristotle  spoke,  but  are  doing  that 
preparatory  work  which  he  truly  stated  to  be  the  right 
direction  of  desire  and  aversion.  The  aim  of  all  instruction 
is  to  inspire  and  direct  desire.  In  specifically  intellectual 
subjects  this  inspiration  spends  itself  in  further  learning. 
But  in  morals,  as,  say,  in  woodwork,  the  test  of  the  success  of 
the  teaching  is  increased  skill  in  the  application  of  precept. 
And  this  application  is  found  in  life  itself.  The  teacher  of 
morals  must  keep  before  him  this  truth,  or  his  teaching 
will  be  apt  to  cultivate  the  power  of  talking  about  good 
deeds  rather  than  a  spiritual  hunger  and  thirst  to  do  them. 
This  is  admirably  put  by  Mr.  A.  Sidgwick :  " '  Moral 
1  Report,  p.  9.  2  Ethics,  X.  9  (Peters'  Translation). 


VIRTUE.  85 

instruction,'  properly  understood,  is  not  a  discussion  of 
virtues  and  of  duties,  a  commentary  on  the  Decalogue  or 
other  codes  of  conduct,  or  a  formal  inculcation  of  principles 
of  any  sort.  It  may  incidentally  include  some  or  all  of 
these,  when  occasion  offers;  but  they  are  not  the  main 
things  which  the  boy  chiefly  needs.  What  he  wants  is  a 
standard,  an  aspiration,  an  aim  for  his  energies,  a  high 
enthusiasm.  It  is  a  mistake  in  dealing  with  the  young  to 
separate  too  sharply  the  intellectual  from  the  moral  enthu- 
siasm ;  they  are  closely  connected  and  react  on  each  other. 
...  If  a  teacher  can  help  or  encourage  a  boy  to  set  a 
high  aim  before  himself,  to  be  no  longer  content  with 
indifference  and  half-excited  energy,  to  care  deeply  for 
something  requiring  pains  and  persistence,  and  so  to  put 
his  whole  strength  into  the  daily  demands  on  his  industry, 
then  it  is  idle  to  say  that  the  teacher's  influence  on  that 
boy  may  not  properly  be  called  moral  instruction."1 

To  inspire  is,  then,  the  first  aim.  "  Desire  and  curiosity 
are  the  two  eyes  through  which  [man]  sees  the  world  in  the 
most  enchanted  colours."2  To  direct  is  the  second,  and 
direction  also  takes  various  forms.  All  school  rules  and 
commands  are  directive,  and,  when  the  reason  of  them  is 
understood,  are  enlightening.  Advice,  when  asked,  is 
invaluable ;  for  in  no  case  can  moral  instruction  be  so 
vivifying  as  when  it  is  sought  by  the  child  himself. 
Similarly,  school  events  furnish  occasions — appropriate, 
because  as  parts  of  real  living  experience  they  arouse  vivid 
personal  feeling- — for  more  general  setting  forth  and 
explanation  of  moral  precept.  Such  opportunities  should 
be  seized;  for  unless  the  children  be  trained  to  begin 
thinking  on  moral  questions  within  their  experience,  their 
moral  habitudes  will  become  mere  blind  prejudices.     As 

1  Report  of  First  International  Moral  Education  Congress,  pp.  144-1  !■">. 

2  R.  L.  Stevenson  :  ElJ)orad<>. 


86  VIRTUE. 

Professor  Adams  puts  it :  " '  Example  is  better  than 
precept '  is  a  dangerous  half  truth.  Precept  is  higher 
than  example,  though  example  is  more  effective  in  produc- 
ing immediate  practical  results.  Precept  is  necessary  to 
the  intelligent  application  of  example."  l 

But  the  precept  must  be  felt  as  both  real  and  neces- 
sary. If  children  are  continually  called  upon  in  school  to 
examine  and  discuss  the  moral  qualities  of  commonplace 
actions  they  will  be  likely  to  form  the  habit  of  regarding 
such  consideration  as  a  purely  school  exercise.  In  out-of- 
school  life  they  cannot  pause  for  such  consideration  in  the 
great  majority  of  cases ;  so  a  continual  insistence  on  such 
topics  in  school  appears  to  them  unreal  as  well  as  tedious. 
Consequently,  instead  of  such  exercises  in  moral  judgment 
tending  to  induce  moral  thoughtfulness  in  general  life,  they 
are  much  more  likely  to  have  the  opposite  effect.  But,  if 
such  consideration  be  restricted  in  school  to  cases  in  which 
the  pupils  feel  real  doubt  and  the  need  for  clearness  of 
moral  insight,  then  the  habit  of  moral  thoughtfulness  is 
being  formed.  For  moral  thoughtfulness  does  not  mean 
moral  hesitancy  and  indecision  as  a  regular  element  in  life ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  the  restriction  of  moral  deliberation 
to  cases  in  which  it  is  really  needed. 

Further,  great  care  is  needed  to  keep  a  lesson  on  a  point 
of  morals  from  becoming  a  mere  exercise  in  intellectual 
quickness  and  in  memory.  "  Direct  teaching,  whenever  it 
is  given,  should  not  be  given  in  the  form  of  ethics  lessons. 
The  assimilation  of  it  to  the  ordinary  school  lesson  should 
most  carefully  be  avoided.  ...  It  should  consist  of  a 
series  of  talks  on  the  wisdom  of  life,  embodying  the  ex- 
perience which  an  older  seeker  after  moral  salvation  has 

1  Essay  on  Precept  versus  Example  in  Moral  Training  and  Instruc- 
tion in  Scliooh,  Vol.  I.,  p.  38, 


VIRTUE.  87 

gathered,  and  which  he  passes  on  to  those  who  are  setting 
out,  it*  perchance  he  may  aid  them  in  their  quest."  ' 

Nor  can  we  despise  the  danger  that  the  spirit  developed 
by  lessons  on  such  topics  may  be  that  of  criticism  of  the 
moral  maxims  themselves.  A  patronising  att.il  ude  towards 
virtue  is  antithetical  to  virtue,  and  the  practice  of  casuist  ry 
is  quite  inappropriate  to  the  immature  mind. 

Whatever  lessons  are  given  in  morality,  then,  it  is  of  the 
first  importance  that  they  should  be  prescriptive,  directive, 
and  explanatory;  not  loading'  the  children  to  imagine  them- 
selves judges  of  the  validity  of  the  moral  maxims  of 
mankind,  but  directing  their  intelligence  only  to  under- 
standing what  those  maxims  involve;  above  all,  inspiring 
them  by  inspiriting  examples  with  enthusiasm  and  love,  so 
that  their  hearts  may  be  set  on  righteousness  and  the 
maxims  may  appear  to  them  as  illuminative  of  actual  life. 

The  ultimate  question  still  remains  as  to  what  induce- 
ment can  be  set  before  children  to  lead  them 

Religion  ^  *°  " see^  8'°°^'  an0-  n0^  evil."  Such  an 
abstraction  as  a  general  law  of  duty  weighs 
little  against  the  sudden  temptations  of  life  either  in  child- 
hood or  in  manhood.  Nor  can  the  majority  of  people,  nor 
any  children,  attain  a  philosophic  insight  into  the  true 
principles  of  life.  They  can  do  right  when  inspired  by 
true  ideals  and  strengthened  by  good  training,  provided 
that  the  training  lias  reached  the  inner  life,  and  the  ideals 
by  firing  the  imagination  have  won  the  adherence  of  the 
w^ill.  "  I  wonder,"  says  R.  L.  Stevenson,  speaking  of 
Grenville's  fight  in  the  Revenge  against  the  Spanish  fleet, 
■'  howr  many  people  have  been  inspired  by  this  mad  story, 
and  how  many  battles  have  been  actually  won  for  England 
in  the  spirit  thus  engendered." - 

1  Dr.  Adler:  Report  of  First  International  Moral  Education  Con- 
gress, p.  14.  2  The  English  Admirals. 


88  VIRTUE. 

But  the  whole  of  life  does  not  consist  in  calls  to  deeds 
of  heroism.  It  summons  us  to  commonplace  duties.  The 
moral  light  has  to  be  followed  through  the  deserts  of  the 
humdrum  as  well  as  over  the  mountains  of  spiritual 
exaltation ;  the  moral  law  demands  obedience  even  when 
no  vivid  and  attractive  human  stimulus  and  example  are 
present  to  inspire  and  help.  Yet  the  relation  must  be 
personal.  Transgression  must  be  felt  as  an  offence  against 
one  who  loves,  or  the  warmth  of  feeling  which  marks  the 
reallv  virtuous  life  is  absent.  In  short,  the  moral  law 
must  be  shown  to  the  child  as  the  will  of  a  loving  Father, 
who  Himself  gives  the  power  to  fulfil  it.  As  Canon  Wilson 
says:  "  Religious  education  .  .  .  supplies  the  only  motive 
tested  by  experience  which  assists  human  nature  to  live  the 
life  of  love  and  brotherly  service,  which  is  the  essence  of 
good  citizenship."1  History  shows  us  no  instance  of  any 
general  adherence  to  a  high  moral  code  divorced  from 
religion.  And  there  is  certainly  nothing  in  the  signs  of 
our  own  times  to  warrant  the  anticipation  that  the  elimi- 
nation of  religion  from  education  would  have  no  deleterious 
effect  on  the  general  morality  of  the  community.  It  would 
assuredly  be  an  irreparable  loss  to  childhood. 

Ruskin    tells  us :    ''I    take  Wordsworth's    single   line, 

'  We  live  by  admiration,  hope,  and  love,' 
tor  my  literal  guide  m  all  education.  -  And 
the  apostle  puts  faith,  hope,  and  charity  as  the  great 
spiritual  virtues.  Nor  are  these  views  lightly  to  be  set 
aside.  The  love  of  individual  liberty,  on  which  we  have 
already  commented,  tends,  when  unchecked  by  a  recog- 
nition of  man's  limitations,  to  eliminate  reverence  from  life. 
Much  of  present  day  educational  theory  makes  in  the  same 
way.     The  doctrine  that  a  child  should  be  left  free  to  follow 

1  Report  of  First  International  Moral  Education  Congress,  p.  lss. 

2  For*  Clavigera,  Letter  L. 


VIRTUE.  89 

his  impulses  combines  with  the  reaction  against  excessive 
dogmatism  in  teaching  in  all  subjects  which  has  marked 
the  last  half  century  to  eliminate  authority  from  education 
both  in  its  moral  and  in  its  intellectual  aspects.  "Children 
should  be  led  to  make  their  own  investigations,  and  t<> 
draw  their  own  inferences.  They  should  be  told  as  little 
as  possible,  and  induced  to  discover  as  much  as  possible," 
wrote  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer;1  and  he  enunciated  a  principle 
which  is  both  important  and  true,  though  it  does  not 
express  the  whole  truth.  Mr.  Spencer  found  one  great 
advantage  in  'science'  as  a  subject  of  instruction  to  be  that 
"  its  truths  are  not  accepted  on  authority  alone;  but  all  are 
at  liberty  to  test  them — nay,  in  many  cases,  the  pupil  is 
required  to  think  out  his  own  conclusions.  Every  step  in 
a  scientific  investigation  is  submitted  to  his  judgment. 
He  is  not  asked  to  admit  it  without  seeing  it  to  be  true."2 
Here,  if  Mr.  Spencer  is  speaking  of  children,  it  is  doubtful 
if  in  the  last  two  sentences  the  limit  is  not  overpass*  )&. 
When  his  later  followers  practically  omit  the  "alone"  from 
the  first  sentence,  and  hold  that  the  principle  of  individual 
testing  of  statements  is  to  be  applied  in  every  department 
of  knowledge  and  by  pupils  of  all  ages,  it  is  certain  that 
the  half  truth  has  become  a  very  mischievous  falsehood. 
One  can  but  be  filled  with  pity  at  the  picture  thus  conjured 
up  of  the  little  child  set  to  penetrate  the  illimitable 
mysteries  of  the  universe  by  his  own  puny  efforts,  and  one 
stands  aghast  at  the  moral  and  intellectual  result  of  incul- 
cating the  belief  that  his  own  babv  intellect  is  the  onlv 
trustworthy  measure  of  the  credible.  There  is  no  infalli- 
bility so  certain  of  itself  as  the  infallibility  of  ignorance, 
and  no  dogmatism/  so  unyielding  as  that  which  springs 
from  the  absence  of  comparison  of  one's  own  efforts  and 
their  results  with  those  of  others  greater  than  oneself.  Tin- 
1  Education,  Ob.  II,  2  Ibid,.  Ch.  I. 


90  VIRTUE. 

spirit  cultivated  by  an  undue  appeal  to  the  reason  and 
experience  of  a  small  child  as  a  test  of  truth  is  one  of  super- 
cilious self-complacency,  and  is,  in  itself,  immoral.  Far, 
indeed,  is  it  removed  from  that  aidos,  or  combination  of 
modesty  and  reverence  for  every  form  of  superiority,  which 
the  keen  insight  of  the  Greeks  led  them  to  regard  as  the 
characteristic  virtue  of  childhood. 

Only  when  reverence  is  aroused  for  the  higher  and  better 
can  ideals  be  formed  ;  thus,  reverence  is  of  the  very  essence 
of  moral  training.  Reverence  compares  our  own  weakness 
of  will,  our  insufficiency  in  love  and  wisdom,  with  greater 
strength,  fuller  love,  and  higher  wisdom ;  ultimately  with 
the  Source  of  all  strength,  and  love,  and  wisdom.  It  thus 
induces  at  once  humility,  by  the  recognition  of  how  little 
way  we  have  advanced  along  the  road  of  righteousness,  of 
knowledge,  or  of  any  form  of  human  achievement ;  and 
hope  and  faith  that  further  advance  is  possible  for  us. 
For  when  reverence  finds  its  object  in  the  Divine,  and  faith 
is  assured  of  the  Almighty  care  and  love,  the  force  of  the 
promise  "My  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness  "]  is 
realised  and  holiness  is  felt  to  be  attainable  even  by  "  the 
chief  of  sinners." 

Without  reverence  it  is  impossible  for  man  or  child  to 
see  himself  as  he  really  is,  and  this  is  of  the  very  essence  of 
truth.  Without  this  "  truth  in  the  inward  parts  "  there  is 
no  wisdom  and  no  real  virtue.  To  recognise  of  what  one 
is  capable,  what  one  has  achieved  and  what  one  may  hope 
to  achieve,  to  understand  the  meaning  of  life — that  is 
wisdom,  and  that  is  "  the  truth  in  the  soul  "  which  Plato 
held  to  be  even  more  important  than  veracity  in  word. 

To  develop  a  desire  for  this  clearness  of  spiritual  vision 
is  an  essential  aim  of  moral  instruction,  for  it  is  a  necessary 
element  in   the  fully   virtuous   life.     "The   love  of  truth 

1  2  Cor.  xii.  9. 


VIRTUE.  91 

compels  us  to  see  what  we  would  rather  ignore,  if  forbids 
us  to  deceive  ourselves,  to  invent  subtle  arguments  to  prove 
that  evil  is  good,  and  it  leads  us  insensibly  to  that  love  of 
justice  which  is  truth  and  reason  in  relation  to  our  fellow 
men."1 

7.  By  wisdom,  then,  we  choose  our  course.  It  remains 
to  follow  it  out.  Here  Ave  find  obstacles  both  in  our 
circumstances  and  in  ourselves.  It  is  in  relation  to  these 
that  the  next  two  aspects  of  virtue  are  exhibited. 

Courage,  or  Manliness,  implies  the  holding  on  to  our 

purpose  in  face  of  external  hindrances  and 
Courage.  -,  ,,  o 

even    dangers — that  power   ot    perseverance 

without  which  the  best  intentions  are  of  no  effect,  and 
life  is  vacillating  and  ineffective.  Without  this  we  cannot 
trust  ourselves  to  hold  firm  in  the  face  of  unexpected 
troubles,  pains,  or  dangers,  whether  they  be  physical  or  be 
due  to  the  opposition  or  contumely  of  those  around  us. 
When  we  are  called  upon  to  do  some  specific  deed,  especi- 
ally if  it  seems  to  us  great  and  heroic,  demanding  the 
putting  forth  of  all  our  powers,  our  task  is  easier  than 
when  we  simply  have  to  hold  fast,  say  to  a  conviction, 
amidst  some  form  of  persecution.  Yet,  as  R.  L.  Stevenson 
reminds  us,  "Not  for  any  of  [the  great  incentives  of  life], 
but  for  the  plain  satisfaction  of  living,  of  being  about 
their  business  in  some  sort  or  other,  do  the  brave,  service- 
able men  of  every  nation  tread  down  the  nettle  danger, 
and  pass  flyingly  over  all  the  stumbling-blocks  of  pru- 
dence."2 Here,  indeed,  the  virtue  is  rather  fortitude  than 
courage.  But  the  two  are  closely  akin :  fortitude  may  be 
called  passive  courage,  and  courage  active  fortitude. 

When  the  doing  of  what  is  seen  to  be  right  involves  the 

1  Seailles :  Report  of  First  International  Moral  Education  Congress, 
p.  297. 

'-'  ./•.'.-  Triplex, 


92  VIRTUE. 

facing  of  physical  dangers,  the  courage  shows  itself  in 
bodily  acts.  But  it  is  always  a  moral  quality.  That 
mere  disregard  of  danger  which  springs  from  obtuseness 
of  nervous  organization,  from  inability  to  imagine  the 
dangers  to  be  faced,  or  from  mere  inbred  ferocity  of  dis- 
position, which  we  often  speak  of  as  '  brute  courage '  is 
not  really  courage  at  all,  but,  as  Dr.  Johnson  described  it, 
"  stark  insensibility."  In  the  truly  courageous  act  the 
perils  are  recognised  and  estimated  at  their  true  worth, 
and  yet  the  decision  is  taken  that  they  must  be  faced  for 
the  sake  of  the  end.  This  may  be  accomplished  with  much 
instinctive  shrinking  from  the  pain  involved ;  indeed,  the 
greater  this  shrinking  the  greater  is  the  call  upon  courage. 

When  exaggerated,  courage  becomes  recklessness  and 
foolhardiness — an  unnecessary  disregard  of  danger  for  the 
sake  of  an  end  of  little  or  no  worth,  or  even  a  tempting  of 
danger  for  its  own  sake.  This  fails  to  be  virtuous  just 
because  it  implies  a  want  of  true  wisdom — of  insight  into 
the  relative  values  of  the  desired  end  and  the  means  by 
which  it  is  to  be  sought.  But  a  timid  prudence  is  much 
more  antagonistic  to  true  nobility  of  life.  As  R.  L. 
Stevenson  says,  "It  is  only  with  a  measure  of  habitual 
foolhardiness  that  you  can  be  sure,  in  the  common  run 
of  men,  of  courage  on  a  reasonable  occasion. "* 

There  is  no  quality  in  which  boys  delight  more  than 
'  pluck ' ;  and  pluck  is  of  the  very  essence  of  courage. 
The  educator's  task  here  is,  in  most  cases,  to  foster  right 
estimates  of  value  rather  than  to  implant  the  feeling  itself. 

8.  The  obstacles  to  perseverance   are,  however,  by   no 

means    altogether  outside   us.     Indeed,  ex- 

emperan  ternal  things  would  seldom  be  obstacles  at 

all,  except  in  so  far  as  they  hindered  physical  activity, 

unless  thev  found   something  within    us    to    which   thev 

1   The  English  Admirals. 


VIRTUE.  9  '■> 

could  make  appeal.  This  is  generally  some  form  of  those 
bodily  appetites  and  natural  tendencies  to  seek  immediate 
pleasure  and  to  avoid  immediate  pain,  which  Plato  likened 
to  a  "  many-headed  monster"  which  reason  has  to  control. 
Temperance,  therefore,  in  its  ethical  sense,  implies  self- 
control.  Indeed,  the  most  unambiguous  rendering  of  the 
Greek  word  would  be  '  sound-mindedness.'  Bui  the  use  of 
'Temperance'  has  become  traditional,  and,  alter  all,  it  is 
easy  to  disregard  its  current  restricted  meaning,  and  to 
remember  that  we  are  temperate  so  far  as  we  are  moderate 
in  the  use  of  all  bodily  enjoyments — estimating  them  at 
their  true  worth,  as  good  so  far,  and  so  far  only,  as  they 
do  not  hinder  the  spiritual  life.  So  long  as  they  tend  to 
preserve  bodily  health  and  energy,  add  to  life  the  zest  of 
innocent  pleasure,  furnish  needed  relaxation  to  the  strained 
powers,  and  secure  recreation  of  expended  energy,  they  are 
indeed  indispensable  to  the  highest  life.  It  is  only  when 
they  cease  to  be  auxiliary,  and  usurp  the  place  of  high 
endeavour  and  noble  purpose,  that  they  become,  at  first 
dangerous,  then  fatal,  to  the  true  life  of  the  soul. 

Temperance,  then,  is  power  of  resisting  temptation ;  for 
temptation  is  always  the  appeal  to  an  impulse  or  appetite, 
made  by  an  external  opportunity  for  its  gratification,  which 
ought  to  be  resisted.  It  may  be  that  the  prompted  act  is 
wrong  in  itself,  now  and  always  ;  it  may  be  that  it  is  only 
wrong  at  the  time  because  it  would  prevent  or  hinder  us 
from  doing  something  higher.  For  a  boy  to  play  cricket, 
in  times  and  places  permitted  by  rightful  authority,  is 
wrong  only  when  his  playing  means  neglect  of  lessons  or 
of  some  other  serious  pursuit.  Temptation,  therefore, 
must  never  be  regarded  as  something  merelv  external :  no 
outer  occasion  is  a  temptation  unless  it  meet  an  inuer 
response.  Thus  the  same  external  circumstances  tempt 
one  person  and   not   another,  from   which    follows  much 


94  VIRTUE. 

inequality   of  judgment.      For  perhaps   most    people  are 
more  or  less  apt  to 

"  Compound  for  sins  they  are  inclin'd  to 
By  damning-  those  they  have  no  mind  to.'"'1 

Moreover,  the  same  circumstances  are  not  a  temptation 
to  the  same  person  at  all  times ;  for  the  same  impulses  are 
not  always  dominant.  This  is  obvious  when  we  consider 
the  temptations  of  childhood  in  relation  to  adult  life. 
The  stately  matron  would  feel  little  temptation  to  play 
with  a  doll  instead  of  fulfilling  her  social  or  family  duties, 
though  when  she  was  a  child  the  doll  may  have  repeatedly 
induced  her  to  neglect  her  lessons.  As  we  grow  older  "  it 
is  decidedly  harder  to  climb  trees,  and  not  nearly  so  hard 
to  sit  still.  There  is  no  use  pretending ;  even  the  thrice 
royal  game  of  hide  and  seek  has  somehow  lost  in  zest."  2 

Temptation  has  always  the  aspect  of  allurement.  It 
holds  out  the  positive  prospect  of  immediate  pleasure,  or 
the  negative  one  of  escape  from  present  discomfort,  merely 
at  the  cost  of  neglecting  to  do  what  we  know  to  be  right 
for  us  there  and  then  to  do.  The  power  to  resist  tempta- 
tion, therefore,  implies  the  power  to  see  the  relative  worth 
of  the  present  inducement  and  of  the  wider  good  to  which 
it  is  opposed ;  and  this,  of  course,  is  wisdom. 

With  children  the  present  inducement  looms  unduly 
large,  for  they  can  look  but  a  little  way  ahead.  They, 
therefore,  must  be  taught  to  rely  largely  on  the  wisdom  of 
their  elders  and  to  accept  their  estimate.  When  children 
love  and  respect  their  instructors  they  are  broadly  willing 
to  do  this,  and  so  to  throw  their  wills  on  the  side  of  the 
wisdom  of  another  and  against  their  own  immediate 
inclination.  Of  course,  they  will  sometimes  fall :  well 
may  we  be  satisfied  if  we  secure  the  general  adherence  of 

1  S.  liutler:  Hudibras,  Pt.  I.,  e.  i. 

2  R.  L.  Stevenson:  Crabbed  Age  and  Youth. 


VIRTUE.  95 

their  wills  fco  what  we  set  before  them  as  wise  ami  good, 
especially  when  a  vicious  habit  has  been  formed,  it  may  be 
in  ignorance,  which  makes  the  other  way.  Scarcely  need 
it  be  pointed  out  how  the  appeal  to  do  right  is  strengthened 
when  they  are  assured  that  the  sin  to  which  they  are 
addicted  is  condemned  by  the  Divine  Father  as  well  as  by 
the  human  counsellor,  and  that  He  will  strengthen  them  in 
their  struggles  against  it.  Too  often,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
the  omniscience  of  God  has  been  made  a  matter  not  of 
trust  but  of  dread.  "  Thou  God  seest  me  "  has  been  inter- 
preted as  if  God  took  delight  in  marking  what  is  done 
amiss.  On  the  contrary  the  thought  should  be  made  a 
source  of  strength  in  the  assurance  that  He  beholds  and 
helps  all  struggles  to  do  right.  So  will  the  child  come  to 
regard  his  religion  not  simply  as  a  rule  of  life  but  also  as 
a  source  of  power. 

9.  In  discussing  wisdom,  courage,  and  temperance,  Ave 
have  been  considering  especially  the  sub- 
Justice,  jective  side  of  virtuous  acts.  But  they  have 
an  external  side  as  well,  and  this  is  broadly  what  we  mean 
by  justice.  Plato  found  that  justice,  as  seen  in  the  human 
soul,  is  a  harmony  of  wisdom,  courage,  and  temperance; 
and,  though  modern  usage  will  not  permit  us  to  speak  of 
justice  except  in  our  dealings  with  others,  yet  without  this 
inner  harmony  external  acts  cannot  be  just.  For  to  be 
just  implies  that  we  recognise  the  rights  and  needs  of 
others  as  well  as  our  own,  and  that  we  allow  neither 
external  difficulties,  nor  the  temptation  to  concentrate  our 
efforts  on  our  own  advantage,  to  keep  us  from  doing  that 
which  Ave  see  to  be  true  and  right  in  the  circumstances. 

It  is  justice  AAdiich  binds  together  every  community,  and 
unless  it  permeate  a  school  there  can  be  in  it  no  moral 
training.  Justice,  then,  is  fundamental,  for  it  is  the  atmo- 
sphere in  Avhich  alone  the  other  aspects  of  virtue  can  appear. 


96  VIRTUE. 

The  conception  of  justice  is  both  positive  and  negative : 
positive,  in  that  it  requires  each  to  fulfil  his  part  in  the  life 
of  the  community ;  negative,  in  that  it  forbids  him  to 
hinder  others  from  doing  the  like.  It  is  essentially  that 
consideration  for  others  which  makes  it  possible  for  each 
to  live  his  life  fully.  Its  antithesis  is  selfishness ;  and 
selfishness  is  the  negation  of  all  virtue.  For  selfishness  is 
a  refusal  to  recognise  one's  true  place  in  the  community, 
and  a  reference  of  all  things  to  one's  own  narrow  and 
personal  interests.  The  selfish  man  cannot,  indeed,  esti- 
mate even  these  aright ;  for,  as  we  have  seen,  the  true 
wisdom  of  life  is  virtue.  A  just  person  truly  estimates  his 
own  place  in  the  world,  and  the  relative  values  of  his  own 
purposes  and  impulses  and  those  of  others ;  and  in  his 
dealings  with  his  fellows  he  shows  that  he  has  drawn  the 
practical  deductions  which  follow  from  that  recognition. 
Justice,  then,  involves  a  true  estimate  of  oneself : 

"  to  thine  own  self  be  true, 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  clay, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man."  * 

Justice  negates  falsehood,  just  as  wisdom  negates  a 
false  self -estimate,  and  these  two  are  seen  to  be  connected 
as  flower  and  root. 

The  Greek  conception  of  justice,  however,  was  too 
negative,  and  too  coldly  intellectual,  in  its 
Charitv  ^  reference  to  others.  Christianity  goes  deeper, 
and  even  as  it  raises  the  heart  to  God  in  love 
and  not  simply  in  fear  or  even  in  reverence,  so  it  expands 
justice  into  the  loving  warmth  of  charity  and  generosity. 
Not,  indeed,  that  the  two  are  in  any  way  opposed.  If 
duty  is  to  do  the  best  we  can  in  any  circumstances  in 
which  we  may  find  ourselves,  and  if  those  circumstances 
present  to  us  a  brother  in  need,  then  we  fail  in  duty  if  we 

1  Hamlet,  Act  i.,  Sc.  3. 


VIRTUE.  97 

simply  avoid  hindering  him  and  do  not  stretch  forth  a 
hand  to  help  :  yea,  if  we  help  him  merely  from  a  sense 
that  We  ought  to  do  so,  and  do  not  vivify  our  help  by  the 
warmth  of  sympathy.  Justice  may  be  beneficent;  charity 
is  also  benevolent.  We  cannot,  indeed,  judge  another  in 
this,  for  we  do  not  know  what  is  possible  for  him.  But  so 
we  must  judge  ourselves.  Still,  the  whole  circumstances 
should  be  weighed.  "  Be  just  before  you  are  generous  " 
gives  a  frequently  needed  warning  lest  a  sudden  impulse 
may  lead  us,  in  generous  zeal  to  help  one,  to  do  a  positive 
injustice  to  another.  The  debtor  scattering  his  monev  on 
the  needy  is  a  case  in  point.  It  really  comes  to  this  : 
justice  infused  with  the  warmth  of  emotion  becomes 
charity.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  improve  on  the  apostle's 
description  :  "  Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind ;  charity 
envieth  not ;  charity  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  up, 
doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own,  is 
not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil ;  rejoiceth  not  in 
iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth ;  beareth  all  things, 
believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things. 
Charity  never  faileth."  l 

10.  We  see,  then,  that  each  aspect  of  virtue  implies  each 
of  the  others.     The  just  man  tries  to   see 
ChUdhood  himself  and  his  acts  exactly  as  they  would 

appear  to  an  impartial  observer ;  the  wise 
man  endeavours  to  see  himself  and  all  things  in  their  true 
relations  ;  the  temperate  man  aims  at  estimating  truly  the 
value  of  the  experiences  of  life ;  and  the  courageous  man 
at  estimating  truly  his  own  powers.  The  qualities  merge 
into  each  other,  because  their  separation  is,  after  all,  only 
the  result  of  the  artificial  abstractions  by  which  we  try  to 
understand  the  whole  complex  character  of  the  virtuous  life. 

Our  discussion  has,  necessarily,  taken  us  far  beyond  the 

1 1  Cor.  xiii.  4-8. 
M.  D.  S.  7 


98  VIRTUE. 

point  reached  by  the  school-boy  or  -girl,  for  it  was  necessary 
to  sketch  the  end  which  must  be  in  the  educator's  mind. 
Without  it  he  becomes  but  an  example  of  the  blind  leading 
the  blind  ;  and  many  are  the  pits  digged  by  ignorance  and 
sin  into  which  both  may  fall.  "  The  fear  of  God  is  the 
beginning  of  wisdom."  True  it  is  that  the  children  are 
very  near  the  beginning  of  life  ;  but  if  they  are  led  to 
reverence  and  follow  the  highest  then  they  are  also  at  the 
beginning  of  wisdom.  To  secure  this  is  the  greatest 
triumph  of  the  school. 


CHAPTER    V. 


CONSCIENCE. 

1.  We  have  seen  how  the  law  of  duty  may  become  the 

principle  of  life  and  how  duty,  talcing  on  the 

Conscience  aspect  of  desire  and  iov,  becomes  virtue.  In 
and  Conduct.  *    *  J  J ' 

examining  virtue  we  found  that  it  involves 

an  insight  into  the  nature  of  our  motives,  the  acts  to 
which  they  prompt,  the  circumstances  in  which  those  acts 
are  done,  and  the  consequences  which  flow  from  them. 
Duty  and  virtue  are  found  in  actual  life,  and  life  is  made 
up  of  separate  deeds. 

The  virtuous  life,  then,  involves  examination  of  our 
doings,  and  the  passing  upon  them  of  judgments  of  ap- 
proval or  disapproval.  This  is  the  exercise  of  Conscience. 
It  may  occur  either  before  or  after  the  act.  When  before, 
it  either  settles  firmly  as  a  fixed  purpose  the  desire  to  do 
the  act,  or  it  holds  up  before  us  a  hindrance  in  the  shape 
of  a  condemnation  of  the  act  by  our  own  judgment.  To 
ignore  this  is  to  contradict  ourselves.  Thus,  a  judgment 
of  conscience  dealing  with  a  proposed  act  carries  with  it 
the  feeling  of  obligation  or  duty.  What  we  ourselves 
judge  to  be  right  for  us  to  do,  that  we  are  impelled  to  do ; 
what  we  judge  to  be  wrong  to  do,  that  we  cannot  do 
without  so  far  committing  moral  and  intellectual  suicide. 

99 


100  CONSCIENCE. 

If  we  do  act  against  the  dictates  of  conscience  we  feel 
that  we  have  done  ill,  that  we  have  wounded  our  self- 
respect,  that  our  act  was  mean  and  unworthy.  But  if, 
despite  this,  we  persist  in  the  wrong  acts,  repeating  them 
again  and  again  because  they  give  us  some  pleasure  or 
avoid  some  pain,  or  simply  because  we  shrink  from  the 
internal  struggle  involved  in  resisting  impulse,  then  these 
feelings  become  gradually  deadened,  and  the  warning 
protests  of  conscience  grow  weaker,  till  finally  they  die 
away,  and,  so  far,  we  are  spiritually  dead.  The  original 
tendency  to  seek  righteousness  has  been  supplanted  by  the 
habitude  of  saying  "  evil,  be  thou  my  good." 

Intermediate  between  judging  conduct  before  we  pro- 
ceed to  enter  upon  it  and  judging  it  in  retrospect  is  the 
judging  an  intention  which  circumstances  made  it  impos- 
sible to  realise.  Evidently,  the  mere  intention  is  not  so 
certain  as  the  intention  fulfilled.  '  To  mean  to  do '  and 
*  to  do  '  are  often  very  different  things.  "  We  mean  to  do 
wicked  things  that  we  never  could  do,  just  as  we  mean  to  do 
good  or  clever  things  that  we  never  could  do.  Our  thoughts 
are  often  worse  than  we  are,  just  as  they  are  often  better 
than  we  are.  And  God  sees  us  as  we  are  altogether,  not 
in  separate  feelings  or  actions,  as  our  fellow-men  see  us."1 
That  is  how  we  need  to  see  ourselves.  But,  even  though 
insight  into  our  own  nature  may  lead  us  to  hope  that,  had 
the  opportunity  come,  the  good  deed  would  really  have 
been  done,  or  that  we  should,  when  brought  face  to  face 
with  it,  have  shrunk  from  the  commission  of  the  evil  deed, 
yet  we  cannot  be  sure  that  it  would  have  been  so.  The 
evil  passion  which  was  strong  enough  to  cause  us  to  form 
the  bad  intention  may  have  proved  strong  enough  to  drive  us 
to  its  execution.  In  any  case,  the  evil  deed  was  for  a  time 
identified  with  the  will,  and  taken  up  into  life's  purpose. 
1  George  Eliot :  Mr.  QilfiVs  Love  Story,  Ch.  XIX. 


C!O.Vs<;iv]NCE.  1"1 

Iii  that  sense  we  are  fully  guilty  of  it.  In  that  sense  we 
must  purge  our  conscience  of  it  if  we  would  again  tread 
the  paths  of  righteousness. 

When  conscience  judges  an  act  after  it  has  been  com- 
mitted its  task  is  easier.  For  the  circumstances  and 
results  which  when  seen  in  anticipation  or  in  imagination 
were  more  or  less  uncertain  are  now  actual.  We  know 
exactly  what  an  act  has  been  and  what  it  has  so  far 
accomplished,  though  there  may  stretch  before  the  mental 
vision  a  long  vista  of  further  consequences.  But  though 
the  act  is  done  and  beyond  recall,  or  the  possibility  of 
determining;  whether  an  intention  would  have  worked 
itself  out  in  actual  deed  has  for  ever  passed  away,  yet 
the  judgment  of  conscience  is  by  no  means  a  mere 
verdict  of  history.  It  is  a  potent  force  entering  into 
the  present,  and  through  the  present  determining  the 
future.  If  the  conduct  or  intention  bear  the  scrutiny 
of  conscience,  then  is  the  tendency  to  act  in  similar  ways 
in  the  future  confirmed.  If  it  stand  condemned,  then 
that  tendency  is  obstructed,  and  the  tendency  to  do  just 
otherwise  incepted  or  strengthened.  That  is  to  say,  the 
true  outcome  of  a  condemnation  of  conscience  is  repent- 
ance, which  is  essentially  a  turning  from  one  line  of 
conduct  to  another  and  opposed  line. 

When  the  possibility  of  amendment  seems  absent,  and 
still  regret  is  felt   for  the  evil  conduct,  or 

and^emor^e  a^  ^eas^  ^or  &s  consequences,  there  is  not 
repentance  but  remorse.  That  is  to  say, 
remorse  is  repentance  without  hope  or  faith  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  grace  and  strength  to  do  better.  But  when 
such  hope  and  faith  are  awakened  that  which  was  only 
remorse  may  become  true  repentance.  To  the  believer  in 
Divine  love  and  help  mere  remorse  is  impossible  as  a 
permanent  state.     For  a  time  faith   may  burn   low   and 


102  CONSCTfi^CE. 

despair  fill  the  soul.  But  when  the  first  shock  of  remorse 
has  spent  itself  faith  is  rekindled  and  the  eye  of  the  soul 
turns  in  hope  towards  the  future.  The  actual  deed  is,  of 
course,  beyond  amendment,  and,  when  it  is  serious,  remorse 
may  still  be  felt  for  it,  even  while  there  is  repentance  so 
far  as  the  general  line  of  conduct  is  concerned.  For 
example,  a  murderer  cannot  restore  his  victim  to  life ;  he 
cannot  make  up  to  him  for  the  evil  he  has  done  him :  that 
avenue  of  conduct  is  entirely  closed,  and  closed  by  his 
own  unwarrantable  deed.  Regarding  that  he  may  feel 
remorse.  But  if  at  the  same  time  there  arise  the  deter- 
mination to  do  what  in  him  lies  to  conquer  those  passion- 
ate impulses  which  led  to  murder  in  the  past,  to  change 
his  aggressive  attitude  towards  others  into  a  full  recog- 
nition of  their  rights,  then  he  may  be  said  to  repent. 

So,  when  in  retrospect  one  stands  appalled  at  the 
realisation  of  what  would  have  been  the  true  nature  of  the 
deed  which  would  have  accomplished  an  intention  of 
which  circumstances  prevented  the  fulfilment,  one  may 
feel  horror  at  the  self  for  entertaining  the  evil  design  and 
intense  thankfulness  that  opportunity  for  its  completion 
in  act  was  wanting,  a  fervent  hope  that  one  may  take 
warning  by  so  narrow  an  escape  and  in  future  keep  a 
bridle  over  one's  thoughts  lest  they  betray  one  to  deeds 
which  must  ever  fill  one  with  remorse. 

Repentance,  in  a  word,  looks  mainly  to  the  future,  to 
which  its  sorrow  for  the  past  acts  as  a  spur:  remorse 
looks  only  to  the  past  as  an  irremediable  ill.  It  is  obvious 
that  when  remorse  alone  is  felt  the  soul  is  spiritually 
deadened;  when  the  state  of  mind  is  more  truly  called 
repentance,  its  spiritual  life  is  quickened.  Indeed,  as 
deeds  wrong  or  imperfectly  right  are  intended  and  wrought 
by  all,  repentance  must  be  regarded  as  a  normal  factor  in 
the  virtuous  life. 


CONSCIENCE.  I<>X 

2.  All  act  of  conscience  is,  then,  essentially  an  intellectual 
judgment  passed  on  definite  acts  and  inten- 
Conscience  tions  of  our  own.     No  person's  conscience  can 

have  anything  to  say  about  the  conduct  of 
another,  or  about  general  modes  of  action.  It  simply 
takes  this  or  that  act  or  course  of  action,  proposed  or 
accomplished,  and  says  '  It  is  right '  or  '  It  is  wrong.1 

The  judgments  of  conscience  are,  consequently,  tinged 
with  emotion  in  a  way  in  which  judgments  dealing  with 
matter  independent  of  ourselves  are  not.  It  is  ourselves 
we  are  judging,  and  we  cannot  remain  as  unmoved  by  the 
recognition  that  we  have  done  well  or  ill  as  by  the  contem- 
plation of  a  correct  or  incorrect  solution  of  a  mathematical 
problem.  Of  course,  the  satisfaction  or  dissatisfaction 
which  attends  the  pronouncements  of  conscience  varies  in 
amount  according  to  the  gravity  or  triviality  of  the  acts 
judged.  Conduct  which  is  condemned  as  hindering  the 
attainment  of  one  of  our  great  purposes,  or  of  the  greatest 
purpose  of  all  when  our  hearts  are  really  set  on  righteous- 
ness, arouses  a  much  more  bitter  and  lasting  emotion  than 
any  that  we  feel  when  the  condemnation  is  passed  on 
some  small  and  comparatively  unimportant  matter  which 
can  have  no  serious  or  far-reaching  results. 

It  is  true  that  we  are  sometimes  conscious  of  more 
mental  disturbance  when  we  have  committed  a  social 
solecism  than  when  we  realise  that  we  have  been  morally 
guilty.  One  may  feel  uncomfortable  for  months  at  the 
memory  that  one  had  knocked  over  a  vase  in  a  crowded 
drawing-room,  or  had  appeared  there  in  evening  dress  with 
turned-up  trousers  and  feet  encased  in  large  goloshes,  and 
forget  during  that  time  many  occasions  on  which  one  had 
lost  one's  temper  and  said  unkind  words.  But  though  the 
former  feeling  is  one  of  discomfort  and  is  related  to  one's 
own  actions,  yet  it  is  not  at  all  like  that  which  attends  the 


104  CONSCIENCE. 

recognition  of  moral  fault ;  it  is  much  less  intimate  and 
personal,  and  much  more  concerned  with  ourselves  as 
others  see  us  than  with  ourselves  as  we  know  we  really 
are.  To  feel  regret  that  one  is  short-sighted,  that  one 
stumbled,  or  even  that  one  was  clumsv  or  absent-minded, 
and  that  these  defects  have  had  awkward  consequences 
which  drew  upon  one  the  unde sired  attention  of  others  is 
quite  another  thing  from  feeling  that  one  has  done  some- 
thing which  makes  one  less  in  the  essence  of  one's  being 
than  one  was  before. 

There  is,  then,  a  characteristic  kind  of  emotion  which 
accompanies  every  judgment  of  conscience ;  an  emotion 
which  should  act  as  a  spring  to  motive  and  a  determinant 
of  action  in  the  future.  Some  temperaments  are,  however, 
prone  to  rest  in  the  emotion  itself — to  wrap  themselves  in 
the  satisfaction  which  approval  entails,  and  even  to  find  a 
kind  of  perverse  joy  in  being  miserable  when  conscience 
disapproves.  The  step  to  living  in  a  kind  of  continual 
contemplation  of  the  ideas  of  actions  which  are  never 
actualised  is  but  a  small  one.  This  is  the  essence  of 
sentiment  alism.  It  is  a  similar  attitude  of  mind  to  that 
which  leads  many  a  shallow  woman  to  shed  copious  tears 
over  the  misfortunes  of  the  heroine  of  romance  or  drama 
while  the  sufferings  of  her  actual  sisters  in  the  flesh  touch 
her  not  at  all.  Sentimentalism  in  the  private  personal  life 
confuses  the  having  of  noble  imaginings  with  the  doiner  of 
noble  deeds ;  but  as  the  imaginings  have  little  or  no  effect 
on  conduct,  the  actual  life  remains  dominated  by  passing 
impulses.  Of  that  prince  of  sentimentalists,  Eousseau,  it 
has  been  said  with  much  force :  "  His  virtues  were  flowers 
of  rhetoric  to  adorn  his  writings :  his  vices  were  his  life 
itself." 

Conscience,  then,  is  not  only  judge,  but  dispenser  of 
rewards  and  punishments  and  director  of  conduct,  whose 


CONSCIENCE.  105 

dictates  can  be  disobeyed  onlv  at  the  cost  of  starvation  of 
soul  and  degradation  of  life. 

3.  This  autocracy,  however,  carries  will)  it  no  more 
guarantee  of  infallibility  than  do  other  auto- 
Conscience  cracies.  To  be  supreme  and  to  be  wise  are  not 
synonymous  expressions.  We  are,  indeed, 
all  well  aware  that  the  consciences  of  those  who  differ 
from  us  often  lead  them  astray.  Some  of  us  may  even 
have  recognised  that  our  own  consciences  have  at  times 
prompted  us  to  do  what  the  same  consciences  have  after- 
wards condemned.  For  conscience  can  decide  only  on  the 
facts  apprehended,  and  these  may  in  the  actual  course  of 
events  turn  out  to  be  different  from  what  thev  seemed  to 
us  likely  to  be  before  we  entered  upon  the  line  of  conduct. 

To  recognise  that  our  conscience  calls  upon  us  to  do 
things  which  we  know  to  be  disapproved  by  others  whose 
judgment  we  respect  should,  therefore,  give  us  pause.  We 
should  reconsider  the  whole  case,  consult  others,  and  in 
every  other  available  way  get  what  further  light  we  can 
upon  it.  In  a  word,  we  should  make  as  sure  as  possible 
that  we  understand  what  we  are  proposing  to  do.  If  our 
conscience  still  tell  us  to  do  it,  then  we  have  no  choice.  It 
is  a  case  of  duty,  and  duty  must  be  done  despite  the  disap- 
probation of  those  around  us.  To  act  otherwise  would  mean 
that  we  do  what  ive  believe  to  be  wrong  because  others  think 
it  right.  Instead  of  following  the  inner  voice  of  conscience 
we  listen  to  what  has  been  styled  the  '  outer  conscience  '  of 
public  opinion,  the  true  function  of  which,  like  that  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  is  to  delay  the  carrying  out  of 
hasty  legislation  till  the  matter  has  been  more  carefully 
considered. 

Indeed,  the  instinct  to  do  and  to  think  as  others  do  and 
think  not  infrequently  leads  people  to  mistake  for  con- 
science   what    is    really   nothing    more    respectable    than 


106  CONSCIENCE. 

prejudice  and  self-complacency.  We  all  know  the  man 
whose '  conscience'  will  never  let  him  do  a  generous  deed,  but 
as  a  compensation  places  no  restrictions  on  his  meannesses. 
We  are  never  justified  in  thinking  or  speaking  of  any 
assurance  of  the  right  or  wrong  of  an  act,  however  strong 
it  may  be,  as  the  dictate  of  conscience,  unless  we  have 
done  our  best  to  understand  the  circumstances— to  look 
at  the  matter  on  all  sides,  to  examine  our  own  motives,  and 
generally  to  apply  our  reason  as  carefully  as  we  can  to  the 
question.  Prejudices  often  grow  up  in  our  minds  without 
any  justification  in  ethics  or  in  logic  for  their  existence. 
They  are  petrifications  of  habitudes  which  have  never 
become  enlightened  purposes ;  which  are,  indeed,  pre- 
dominantly habitudes  of  feeling  with  which  intellect  has 
little  to  do.  They  may  be  survivals  from  a  past  different 
in  many  ways  from  the  present,  passed  down  by  social 
tradition  and  drawn  in  by  us  with  our  mother's  milk.  Or 
they  may  be  of  later  growth,  and  the  outcome  of  religious, 
political,  social,  or  other  strong  prepossessions.  The 
strength  or  the  age  of  a  conviction  is  no  guarantee  either 
of  its  truth  or  of  our  right,  as  intelligent  beings,  to 
hold  it. 

There  is,  then,  no  exercise  of  conscience  unless  the  whole 
power  of  the  mind  has  been  brought  into  play,  and  the 
decision  is  seen  to  be  the  result  of  reasoning  on  the 
conditions  offered.  It  is  because  this  is  the  nature  of 
conscience  that  it  is  liable  to  go  astray.  Every  operation 
of  conscience  is  an  act  of  inference  in  which  a  general 
moral  principle  of  conduct  is  applied  to  a  particular  case. 
Error  may  arise  from  misapprehension  either  of  the  prin- 
ciple or  of  the  facts,  or  from  fallacious  application.  The 
ultimate  moral  laws  are  immutable,  for  they  are  expres- 
sions of  the  nature  of  goodness  itself :  they  set  forth  the 
directions  in  which  human  nature  approaches  its  perfec- 


CONSCIENCE  107 

tion.     In  this  sense  they  are  as  truly  natural  ;is  are  the 

laws  of  the  physical  universe.     But  they  are  not  '  natural' 

in  the  sense  of  being  innate.     "  There  is  no  authentic  copy 

of  the  moral  law,  printed,  framed,  and  hung  up  by  the 

hand  of  Nature,  in  the  inner  sanctuary  of  every  human 

heart."1 

Further,  the  ultimate  laws  have  been  applied  to  different 

customs,    among   different   peoples,    and   in 

Variations  in     different  ayes.      They  have  been  expressed, 

apprehension  °   .       , . «.  .  -, . 

of  Moral  Law.    accordingly,  m  different  maxims,  leading  to 

different  judgments  on  outward  acts  which, 
removed  from  their  settings,  seem  alike.  Thus,  conduct 
which  would  be  condemned  in  one  age  may  be  approved 
in  another,  for  it  enters  into  a  different  texture  of  life. 
For  instance,  the  Spartan  boy  was  taught  to  augment  his 
scanty  rations  by  whatever  he  could  appropriate  secretly. 
In  the  present  day  this  would  be  condemned  as  theft, 
because  our  society  is  organized  on  a  basis  of  private 
property  which  it  is  a  main  function  of  the  State  to  protect 
from  assault.  But  it  was  not  theft  in  the  Spartan  boy ; 
not  only  because  it  was  allowed,  and  even  enjoined,  by 
public  authority,  but  also  because  Sparta  was  organized 
essentially  as  a  military  state,  and  everything  was  made 
subservient  to  efficiency  in  war.  Ability  to  forage  was 
thus  a  desirable  power  to  cultivate  in  the  young.  More- 
over, the  individual  citizen  was  regarded  as  existing  essen- 
tially for  the  benefit  of  the  State,  so  that  what  he  was 
allowed  to  hold  as  private  property  he  yet  held  as  a  kind 
of  public  trust.  Duty  was  judged  at  Sparta  by  reference 
to  the  efficiency  of  conduct  in  maintaining  the  power  and 
independence  of  the  State.  With  our  more  settled  con- 
ditions the  question  of  private  rights  bulks  larger.  But 
even  in  these  at  first  sight  so  contradictory  rulings  as  to 

1  Rickaby  :  Mural  Philosophy,  p.  145. 


108  CONSCIENCE. 

right  and  wrong  we  see  that  the  ultimate  law  is  one  and 
the  same — to  do  what  is  judged  best  for  the  welfare  of  the 
community  :  the  variation  is  in  the  specific  kind  of  outward 
act  in  which  this  duty  is  to  be  fulfilled,  and  that  variation 
is  determined  by  the  differences  in  the  conditions  under 
which  it  has  to  be  performed. 

The  apparent  contradictions  between  the  moral  principles 
of  different  ages  frequently  arise  simply  from  the  error  of 
applying  to  one  set  of  circumstances  conceptions  which  are 
valid  only  in  another.  To  take  another  instance.  Herodotus, 
wishing  to  show  the  power  of  national  customs,  says,  "  For 
if  one  were  to  offer  men  to  choose  out  of  all  the  customs  in 
the  world  such  as  seemed  to  them  the  best,  they  would 
examine  the  whole  number,  and  end  by  preferring  their 
own ;  so  convinced  are  they  that  their  own  usages  far  surpass 
those  of  all  others.  .  .  .  That  people  have  this  feeling  about 
their  laws  may  be  seen  by  very  many  proofs  :  among  others 
by  the  following.  Darius,  after  he  had  got  the  kingdom, 
called  into  his  presence  certain  Greeks  who  were  at  hand, 
and  asked — '  What  he  should  pay  them  to  eat  the  bodies 
of  their  fathers  when  they  died  ?  '  To  which  they  answered, 
that  there  was  no  sum  that  would  tempt  them  to  do  such 
a  thing.  He  then  sent  for  certain  Indians,  of  the  race 
called  Callatians,  men  who  eat  their  fathers,  and  asked 
them,  while  the  Greeks  stood  by,  and  knew  by  the  help  of 
an  interpreter  all  that  was  said — -'  What  he  should  give 
them  to  burn  the  bodies  of  their  fathers  at  their  decease  ?  ' 
The  Indians  exclaimed  aloud,  and  bade  him  forbear  such 
language.  Such  is  men's  wont  herein  ;  and  Pindar  was 
right,  in  my  judgment,  when  he  said  '  Law  is  king  o'er 
all.'"1      Here  it  is  plain  that,  though  the  same  kind  of 

1  Bk.  III.  38  (Rawlinson's  Translation).  We  owe  the  suggestion 
of  this  illustration  to  Riekaby's  Moral  Philosophy,  p.  1  15. 


CONSCIENCE.  109 

act  was  regarded  with  abhorrence  by  one  people  and  with 
approval  by  another,  yet  the  difference  was  only  in  the 
application  of  the  general  moral  law  which  enjoined  respect 
and  reverence  to  the  dead.  The  conventional  law  of  custom 
was  ''king  o'er  all"  only  in  dictating  the  mode  in  which 
this  universal  natural  obligation  should  be  fulfilled. 

Other  variations  are  due  to  the  amount  of  insight  into 
the  ultimate  moral  law  itself  attained  by  different  peoples. 
For,  after  all,  the  accepted  maxims  are  expressions  of 
judgments  which  though  general  are  also  individual.  For 
example,  even  to  the  greatest  of  Greek  thinkers  slavery 
was  a  natural  institution.  To  us  it  is  repugnant  to  the 
natural  moral  law ;  for  we  recognise  in  a  way  the  Greeks 
never  did  the  universal  brotherhood  of  man,  and.  the  con- 
sequent obligation  upon  us  to  treat  every  human  being  as 
having  his  own  independent  life  to  live  and  destiny  to 
accomplish,  and  to  refrain  from  using  him  as  a  mere 
means  for  the  advancement  of  our  own  ends.  In  a 
word,  we  have  attained  a  deeper  insight  into  the  rela- 
tions which  should  bind  man  to  man,  and  have  reached 
the  conception  that  every  man  has,  like  ourselves,  the 
right  to  that  freedom  of  action  which  is  the  essential 
mark  of  his  humanity. 

The  great  fact  that  there  is  progress  in  morality  does 
not  imply  a  development  of  the  ultimate  principles,  but  an 
evolution  in  man's  apprehension  of  them ;  just  as  progress 
in  mathematics  is  simply  an  increasing  insight  into  mathe- 
matical relations  which  in  themselves  are  now  exactly 
what  they  were  in  the  beginning.  Man  is  slowly  feeling 
his  way  into  a  knowledge  of  the  world,  but  his  increase  of 
knowledge  does  not  add  to  the  richness  of  reality.  So  it 
is  with  goodness,  but  with  the  difference  that  here  Divine 
revelation  has  thrown  light  on  his  path  if  only  he  will 
avail  himself  of  it. 


110  CONSCIENCE. 

4.  The  judgments  of  conscience,  therefore,  differ  both 
among  races  and  between  individuals  accord- 
Conscience0  m£  ^°  ^ie  amount'  °f  moral  insight  attained. 
In  other  words,  conscience  grows  in  efficiency 
with  man's  spiritual  growth.  It  is  not  an  infallible  guide 
implanted  in  us,  yet  not  we  ourselves,  directing  the 
infant  as  surely  as  the  most  mature  saint.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  we  ourselves  judging  our  own  acts  and  purposes 
with  just  the  amount  of  intelligence  and  good  will  we 
possess.  As  these  powers  increase  conscience  becomes 
more  and  more  capable  of  piercing  to  the  moral  essence 
of  conduct,  and  of  seeing  the  real  bearing  of  separate  acts 
on  the  spiritual  life. 

This  implies  that  it  also  becomes  more  sensitive ;  for 
sensitiveness  is  simply  response  to  small 
of  Conscience  variations.  Moral  sensitiveness  means  that 
the  conscience  recognises  deviations  from 
the  true  and  the  good  which  would  be  imperceptible  to 
a  less  sensitive  conscience.  Doubtless,  there  are  in- 
nate differences  in  the  sensitiveness  of  conscience  as 
in  all  other  forms  of  sensitiveness  ;  but  doubtless 
also,  this,  like  other  forms  of  sensitiveness,  can  be 
trained. 

The  young  child  cannot  see  the  bearing  of  his  acts 
so  clearly  as  the  adult,  nor  can  he  have  his  heart  so  firmly 
and  so  consciously  set  on  righteousness.  Consequently,  his 
conscience  allows  him,  without  protest,  to  do  acts  which 
he  should  not  do,  just  because  he  does  not  see  their  real 
meaning.  In  a  word,  his  conscience  is  only  beginning 
to  learn  to  distinguish  between  right  and  wrong,  and  at 
first  it  marks  off  only  the  broadest  contrasts,  just  as  his 
sensitiveness  to  colour  at  first  enables  him  to  separate 
only  well-marked  tints.  Later  on,  as  his  visual  per- 
ception is  trained  he  sees  manv   intermediate   shades    in 


CONSCIENCE.  Ill 

colour,  and  as  his  moral  perception  is  cultivated  he  sees 
many  intermediate  degrees  in  thought  and  conduct.  The 
conscience  can  no  more  respond  t<>  undistinguished  dif- 
ferences than  can  the  eye.  So,  to  say  that  conscience 
is  less  sensitive  in  childhood  than  in  virtuous  man- 
hood is  analogous  to  saying  that  the  eye  of  the  child 
is  less  able  to  distinguish  tints  of  colour  than  is  that  of 
the  trained  adult. 

Just  as  the  child  will  not  advance  far  or  rapidly  in  the 
discrimination  of  colours  unless  his  interest 
an^WilJ06  ^e  excite<i  and  his  attention  concentrated  on 
such  distinctions,  so  he  will  not  progress  in 
moral  insight  unless  his  will  be  engaged  in  the  work. 
More  true  is  it,  indeed,  in  moral  education — that  is,  in  the 
training  of  conscience — than  in  anv  other  branch  of  educa- 
tion  that  no  real  progress  is  made  without  the  cooperation 
of  the  will  of  the  child. 

The  training  of  conscience,  then,  consists  in  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  good  will  and  the  development  of  moral  insight. 
The  latter  implies  the  elucidation  of  the  child's  ideas  of 
the  content  of  morality  ;  that  is,  of  power  of  distinguishing 
between  moral  values,  and  of  appreciating  the  full  scope  of 
moral  precepts  so  that  he  may  apply  them  with  increasing 
ease  and  certainty  to  his  own  conduct. 

Now  the  will  of  the  child  fixes  itself  naturally  on  the 
objective  world.  He  wants  to  do  and  to  act, 
Order  of  de-  and  he  finds  small  satisfaction  in  mere  mental 
Conscience.  activity  which  has  no  external  result.  Many 
people,  indeed,  never  pass  beyond  this  stage. 
Ours  is  emphatically  an  age  of  bustle  and  hurry,  and  one 
keen  to  rush  into  doing.  Is  an  evil  discerned  ?  Its  percep- 
tion urges  to  immediate  action  for  its  removal ;  too  often, 
alas,  with  the  result  that  the  ill  is  aggravated,  or  others 
even  worse  induced.     Too  little  is  it  recognised  that  not 


112  CONSCIENCE. 

mere  action  but  wise  action  is  what  life  requires,  and  that 
wisdom  implies  deliberation. 

This  recognition,  however,  can  only  come  gradually  in 
life,  as  experience  teaches  the  futility  and  mischief  of 
unconsidered  conduct.  Because  it  is  desirable  that  a 
future  generation  of  adults  should  think  before  acting 
more  than  is  at  present  the  custom,  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  way  to  prepare  for  this  is  to  try  to  anticipate  the 
deliberateness  proper  to  maturity  amid  the  restless  energy 
of  childhood.  The  effort  to  "  put  old  heads  on  young 
shoulders  "  is  fore-doomed  to  failure :  it  is  either  quite 
ineffective  or  it  produces  a  self-satisfied  and  morally 
anaemic  prig.  As  in  intellectual,  so  in  spiritual  life,  the 
educator  must  be  satisfied  with  a  very  slow  growth — a 
growth  imperceptible  from  day  to  day  and  only  to  be 
gauged  by  comparing  the  moral  stature  now  attained  with 
that  reached  a  year  or  two  ago. 

That  moral  growth  may  be  secured  at  all  the  educator 
must  work  on  the  spiritual,  as  on  the  intellectual  and 
physical  life,  along  the  lines  of  natural  development. 
Thus,  the  fact  that  the  child's  outlook  is  essentiallv 
objective  must  be  accepted.  Altogether  evil  is  the  at- 
tempt to  induce  in  a  child  a  high  degree  of  introspective 
self-consciousness  :  with  him  it  can  only  be  morbid.  The 
sad  increase  in  the  number  of  juvenile  suicides  which 
is  apparent  in  certain  continental  countries  points  the 
moral. 

The  child's  conscience  grows  in  strength  and  in  activity 
as  the  habitude  of  doing  what  he  knows  to  be  right 
increases  in  power.  For  generally  he  sees  clearly  enough 
what  he  ought  to  do,  and  each  time  he  acts  on  the  recogni- 
tion he  strengthens  his  conscience,  so  that  he  feels  its 
pricks  immediately  he  even  proposes  to  wander  from  the 
well  marked  paths  of  righteousness, 


CONSCIENCE.  113 

But  this  is  not  enough;  for,  as  we  have  seen,  virtue 
goes  beyond  habitude.  The  child's  moral 
J?°ral  thoughtfulness   and    insight   must   also    be 

fulness.  trained  and  his  sensitiveness   to    shades    of 

,  morality  in  conduct  increased.     This  is  the 

function  of  that  moral  instruction  of  which  we  spoke  in 
the  last  chapter.1  The  whole  aim  of  such  teaching,  whether 
directly  or  indirectly  given,  is  to  induce  in  the  child  the 
moral  thoughtfulness  appropriate  to  his  years,  vitalised  by 
the  will  to  do  well,  and  so  leading  to  greater  and  greater 
moral  insight.  Without  the  will  the  intellectual  considera- 
tion of  moral  questions  is  inoperative  in  life  and  futile  in 
education. 

The  child  is  impulsive  and  prone  to  act  without  thinking. 

When    he  does  wrong   he  is   often  conscious  of  no  evil 

motive,  and  he  does  not  pause  to  think  out  the  probable  or 

possible  effects   of  his  action.     Education    must   develop 

the  general  habitude  of  checking  impulse  by  regard  to  the 

whole  circumstances  in  which  the  act  would  be  done.     This, 

of  course,  does  not  imply  the  continual  delay  of  action  by 

long   deliberation.     The  impulse  is  immediately  met  and 

checked  by  the  general  habitude  of  looking  further  than 

the  sa/tisf action  of  the  impulse.     For  example,  a  boy  who 

in  simple  thoughtlessness  throws  a  stone  in  a  street  or  on 

a  common  mav  realise  too  late  that  it  must  strike  another 

person.     Ignorance  that  this  person  would  actually  be  in 

the  path  of  the  projectile  is,  however,  no  excuse  for  the 

moral  fault  of  his  recklessness.     A  little  thought  would 

have  told  him  that  in  a  public  place  others  are  likely  to  be 

about,  that  they  have  a  right  to  pass  in  safety,  and  that  an 

obligation  rests  on  him  to  respect  that  right ;  but  that  to 

throw  a  stone  is  to  infringe  the  right,  and,  consequently, 

to  commit  a  wrong  against  the  community  whether  actual 

1  See  pp.  83-91. 
M.D.S.  8 


114  CONSCIENCE. 

injury  to  another  results  or  not.  Of  course  when  harm 
does  result  to  a  person  whose  proximity  he  could  have  seen 
had  he  looked  round,  his  faidt  is  more  serious ;  he  is  then 
guilty  not  only  of  negligence  but  of  culpable  negligence  of 
a  type  which  indicates  a  callous  disregard  of  others. 

The  conscience,  then,  is  trained  when  a  child  is  led  to 
recognise  this :  that  no  potential  infringement  of  the 
rights  of  another  can  ever  be  justified ;  that  when  such 
potential  infringement  becomes  actual  through  his  own 
negligence  his  fault  is  increased ;  that  when  no  public 
right  is  infringed  ignorance  that  actual  and  positive  evil 
will  result  from  his  act  is  an  exculpation  only  wdien  it  was 
absolutely  unavoidable,  but  that  ignorance  which  is  remov- 
able by  means  within  his  power  is  an  aggravation  rather 
than  an  extenuation  of  his  wrong-doing,  as  it  indicates  a 
tendency  to  be  indifferent  to  the  effects  of  his  acts  so  long 
as  they  give  him  a  momentary  pleasure  or  excitement. 

Often,  when  a  child  is,  from  mere  thoughtlessness,  about 

to  do  something  which  will  be  a  more  or  less 
Moral  Insight.  .  ™  .      .  ,..  n       , 

serious  oirence  against  morality  or  good  order, 

a  word,  or  even  a  look,  from  parent  or  teacher  is  enough 

to  give  him  pause.     If  such  a  case  be  considered  for  a 

moment  it  will  be  seen  that  its  essence  is  that  in  that  pause 

the  child's  attention  is  drawn  to  what  he  was  about  to  do. 

He  recognises  that  it  is  disapproved  by  those  whom  he 

respects  and  loves ;  so,  even  if  wdthout  that  suggestion  he 

would  not  have  seen  it  to  be  wrong,  he  so  sees  it  nowr.     In 

other  words,  he  has  learnt  to  distinguish  another  moral 

shade  in  conduct,  to  appreciate  a  distinction  to  which  he 

has  not  hitherto  been  sensitive. 

Opportunities   for   similar   and   further   enlightenment 

present  themselves  both  in  school  life  and  in  school  lessons. 

"  Prevention  is  better  than  cure,"  and  if  a  child  can  be  led 

in  any  case  to  distinguish  between  right  and  wrong  before 


CONSCIENCE.  115 

be  acts  instead  of  afterwards,  something  is  gained.  Such 
teaching  is  effective  just  so  far  as  it  seizes  hold  of  an 
existing  habitude  and  enlightens  it.  For  instance,  a  boy 
may  have  formed  the  purpose  and  habitude  of  abstaining 

from  Lying.  Yet  he  may  have  a  very  narrow  and  restricted 
idea  of  where  the  confines  of  lying  should  he  axed.  A  few 
words — a  suggestion,  a  hint,  a  question  arising  out  of  some 
lesson,  it  may  be  in  literature  or  in  history,  or  out  of 
some  incident  of  school  life — throw  a  hood  of  light  on  the 
point.  His  idea  of  lying  is  enlarged :  what  has  hitherto 
seemed  to  him  to  stand  outside  is  now  seen  to  be  included 
in  its  scope.  His  conscience  has  been  enlightened,  for  it 
was  ready  to  receive  enlightenment. 

But  the  solemn  and  reverent  exposition  of  the  doctrines 
of  religion,  infusing  the  demands  of  the 
and  Religion  moral  law  with  the  sense  of  loving  Father- 
hood and  the  assurance  of  Divine  help  in 
striving  to  do  well,  and  with  the  feeling  of  human  solidarity 
involved  in  the  very  idea  of  a  Church,  is  the  most  direct 
and  powerful  means  for  enlightening  the  conscience  and 
identifying  the  will  with  holiness.  Without  this,  education 
must,  of  necessity,  be  maimed. 

Moral  teaching  is   more  directly  and  personally  given 

when  a  child,  finding  himself  faced  with  a 
Moral 
Guidance  problem  of  conduct  he  cannot   solve,  seeks 

advice.     Such  cases  of  doubt  are  infrequent 

in  child  life  ;  for,  as  has  been  said,  a  child  generally  sees 

his  duty  if  he  only  pause  to  think  on  the  matter.    Yet  they 

do  arise,  and  as  the  years  of  adolescence  are  passed  through 

they  become  more  numerous  and  more  vital.     Parents  often 

fail  woefully  in  their  duty  by  not  seeking,  yea   by  even 

shunoing  from  a  feeling  of  false  shame,  their  children's 

confidences  at  this  time.     Many  a  gallant  bark  putting  out 

hopefully  on  the  ocean  of  life's  temptations  suffers  shipwreck 


116  CONSCIENCE. 

from  want  of  the  warning  beacon  which  the  parent  might 
have  lighted. 

To  a  teacher  it  belongs  less  to  seek  such  private  confi- 
dences, but  he  should  be  willing  to  receive  them  if  they 
are  offered,  as  should  every  good  and  thoughtful  adult 
who  has  youthful  friends.  The  teacher  should,  indeed,  by 
his  generally  sympathetic  and  helpful  attitude  towards  his 
pupils,  tacitly  invite  them  to  seek  his  advice  when  they  feel 
the  need  of  guidance.  One  of  the  evil  results  of  undue 
familiarity  and  the  elimination  of  the  relation  of  comple- 
mentary authority  and  respect  between  teacher  and  pupil 
is  that  such  advice  when  given  is  wanting  in  constraining 
power  :  it  ranks  with  the  opinion  of  a  schoolmate  instead 
of  taking  the  higher  level  of  the  pronouncement  of  a  guide 
and  leader. 

Whether  sought  or  not,  opportunities  for  advice  must 
occur  simply  because  children  will  never  be  free  from  moral 
faults.  The  educator's  aim,  after  a  child  has  committed  a 
sin  is  to  lead  him  to  repentance.  His  mode  of  dealing  with 
the  case  must  be  determined  by  this.  Solemn  yet  affec- 
tionate admonition  will  be  the  chief  factor.  If  he  feel 
that  punishment  is  demanded  he  yet  punishes  simply  as  an 
additional  aid  to  the  evoking  of  conscience.  Any  punish- 
ment which  fails  to  be  such  an  aid  is  out  of  court.  As 
Turing  warns  us,  "  With  the  young,  grave  moral  offences, 
when  detected,  are  felt  keenly  and  bitterly,  sometimes  with 
exceeding  bitterness,  but  in  all  cases  conscience  is  roused 
to  aid  any  right  corrective,  and  there  is  great  danger  that 
wrong  measures  will  deaden  instead  of  improve  boys  fresh 
to  sin."1 

The  aim  is  to  produce  a  lasting  impression — a  memory 
of  shame  that  will  act  as  a  future  safeguard.     But  in  order 

1  Education  and  School,  Ch.  XV. 


CONSCIENCE.  117 

that  this  may  be  secured  it  is  essential  that  the  fault  should 

bo  recognised  as  an  offence  against  a  higher  and  wider  law 
than  that  of  mere  family  or  school  order — as  one  which  lias 
a  bearing  on  all  Life  and  not  merely  <>n  one  department  of 
life.  The  words  uttered  should,  therefore,  be  well  chosen, 
few  and  weighty,  and  spoken  with  tact  and  much  gravity. 
Most  mistaken  is  it  to  deluge  the  offender  with  a  flood  of 
rhetoric.  At  the  best  this  awakens  an  emotional  excite- 
ment which  passes  away  with  the  eloquence  which  aroused 
it,  or  very  soon  after ;  at  the  worst  it  raises  a  feeling  of 
repulsion  and  dislike;  usually  the  boy  simply  closes  his 
spiritual  ears  and  emerges  from  the  intercourse  un- 
affected. 

It  is  good  that  children  should  be  encouraged  to  that 
amount  of  moral  thoughtf illness  which  is  suitable  to 
their  age,  and  practised  in  examining  their  conduct  and 
estimating  the  results  of  their  actions,  so  that  their  own 
experience  may  help  to  guide  them  in  the  future,  and  so 
that  their  ideas  of  the  moral  law  may  grow  ever  clearer  and 
more  lively.  The  home  is  emphatically  the  place  in  which 
this  should  be  done.  The  school  can  play  but  a  poor  second 
to  a  good  home  in  this  respect.  The  very  strenuousness  of 
its  life,  and  the  thoroughness  with  which  it  fills  up  its 
pupils'  time  with  lessons  and  games,  though  of  the  very 
essence  of  its  character  as  a  school,  are  not  conducive  to 
those  moments  of  calm  reflexion  in  which  conscience  makes 
its  voice  heard.  Yet  even  in  school  opportunities  arise  for 
appeal  to  conscience.  Such  appeal  can  obviously  only  be 
made  individually  ;  for  nothing  can  be  more  individual 
than  the  conscience  of  each  one  of  us.  It  is  made  in 
private  talk  between  teacher  and  pupil,  but  the  conscience 
itself  needs  solitude  in  which  to  work.  To  send  a  child 
back  into  the  turmoil  of  school  life  after  such  an  interview 
is  to  stifle  conscience  immediately  it  is  aroused.     A  time  for 


118  CONSCIENCE. 

quiet  meditation  is  needed.  It  may  be  found  in  the  home 
or  bv  leaving  the  child  alone  in  a  room  at  school  for  a  few 
minutes.  In  boarding  schools  it  is  plain  that  every  child 
should  have  certain  times  which  he  can  in  the  fullest  sense 
call  his  own,  and  in  which  the  gift  of  recollectedness  may 
grow  in  him. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


THE     SCHOOL     COMMUNITY. 

1.  Having  examined  the  personal  qualities  of  the  good 

life  we  must  now  consider  how  that  life  can 

Disciplinary       he  furthered  by  the  school.     This  enquiry  is 
Function  of  e  .  0  , 

the  School.        one  °*  increasing  importance,  tor  more  and 

more  the  home  seems  to  be  losing  its  hold 
over  the  children  and  willingly  transferring  its  functions, 
as  far  as  it  can  do  so,  to  the  school.  That  this  is  to  be 
regretted  has  already  been  shown  :  that  it  cannot  be  done 
with  any  fullness  makes  the  tendency  even  more  mis- 
chievous, as  the  functions  which  the  school  cannot  take 
up,  though  the  family  lay  them  down,  are  left  unfulfilled, 
and  to  that  extent  the  child  suffers  from  lack  of  training. 
Of  course,  the  demarcation  between  family  and  school 

functions  is  very  different  in  boarding  schools 
Importance  an(j  ^u  ciay  sch0ols.  The  former  schools  have 
Life  a  wider  scope  than  the  latter,   for   to  the 

strictly  school  functions  thev  add  those  of 
the  boarding-house.  And  in  a  boarding-house  the  child 
lives  a  kind  of  home  life,  though  it  is  not  a  family  life. 

But  even  in  a  day  school  there  are  functions  which  the 
family  cannot  fulfil;  so  that,  even  were  good  family  train- 
ing universal,  schools  would  still  have  a  part  to  play.     In 

119 


120  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

the  school  the  child  is  brought  into  competition  and  co- 
operation with  others  of  the  same  standing,  and,  as  a 
result,  his  whole  life  expands.1  All  activity  acquires  an 
added  zest  by  being  undertaken  in  company  with  others, 
as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  is  easier  to  inspire  a 
crowd  with  enthusiasm  than  an  individual,  and  to  induce 
those  who  compose  it,  when  thus  inspired,  to  commit 
acts  in  common  which  they  would  not  easily  be  prevailed 
on  to  attempt  as  individuals.  In  school  this  '  contagion 
of  numbers '  is  combined  with  that  most  effective  spur 
to  youthful  endeavour — emulation  ;  for  the  work  of  each 
is  not  so  merged  in  that  of  the  whole  as  to  become  an 
indistinguishable  constituent  in  the  mass  of  a  common 
result.  "  Rivalry  without  malice  "  of  individual  with  indi- 
vidual  and  of  group  with  group  is  one  of  the  most  potent 
instruments  by  which  the  school  community  stimulates 
the  individual  pupil  to  effort  to  a  degree  to  which  private 
tuition  can  never  attain. 

Moreover,  as  that  wise  old  Elizabethan  schoolmaster, 
Richard  Mulcaster,  put  it :  "  Education  is  the  bringing  up 
of  one,  not  to  live  alone,  but  amongst  others,  (because 
company  is  our  natural  cognisance)  whereby  he  shall  be 
best  able  to  execute  those  doings  in  life  which  the  state  of 
his  calling  shall  employ  him  unto,  whether  public  abroad  or 
private  at  home,  according  unto  the  direction  of  his  country 
whereunto  he  is  born,  and  oweth  his  whole  service.  All 
the  functions  here  be  public,  and  regard  every  one,  even 
where  the  things  do  seem  to  be  most  private,  because  the 
main  direction  remaineth  in  the  public,  and  the  private 
must  be  squared,  as  it  will  best  join  with  that :  and  yet  we 
restrain  education  to  private,  all  whose  circumstances  be 
singular  to  one.  As  if  he  that  were  brought  up  alone 
should  also  ever  live  alone.   .  .  .  How  can   education  be 

1  Cf.  pp.  9-10. 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  121 

private?       It    abuseth    the    name    as     it    abuseth    tin- 
thin 


"  i 


Moreover,  the  school  influence  is  brought  to  bear  at  an 
age  specially  open  to  suggestions  derived  from  a  common 
life.  From  the  dependence  of  infancy  the  boy  is  passing 
to  the  independence  of  manhood.  In  this  intermediate 
stage  he  consciously  and  fully  identifies  himself  with  a 
group  of  his  fellows,  with  whom  he  measures  himself  even 
while  he  works  with  them  for  a  common  end.  The  gregari- 
ousness  of  the  ordinary  school-boy  or  -girl  is  apparent  to 
all  who  study  childhood.  Instinct  cries  aloud  in  them  to 
seek  the,  cooperation  of  others  in  whatever  they  do,  and  to 
endeavour  to  make  their  own  contribution  to  the  success  of 
the  common  enterprise  greater  than  that  of  those  who  are 
sharing  it  with  them. 

This  prevalence  of  what  has  been  called  the  '  group-con- 
sciousness '  during  the  years  of  school  life  causes  the  school 
community  to  differ  in  important  ways  from  the  adult 
community,  in  which  each  individual  is  more  independent 
and  more  prone  to  seek  his  personal  ends.  Though  still 
gregarious  in  many  aspects  of  his  activity — religious, 
political,"  recreative — the  adult  feels  more  strongly  than 
does  the  child  the  primary  value  of  his  own  private  pur- 
poses. Too  often,  indeed,  this  perception  so  dominates 
him  that  he  tries  to  use  his  fellows  as  far  as  he  can  merely 
as  his  instruments. 

The  general  moral  atmosphere,  influential  on  opinion 
and  conduct  at  all  ages,  is,  thus,  of  supreme  importance  in 
school.  That  is  the  real  moulding  influence  the  power  of 
which  is  felt  by  all  and  resisted  by  few.  A  striking 
example  is  given  by  Mme.  de  Geocze  :  "  A  little  boy  comes 
to  school.  He  is  the  best  pupil  and  gets  excellent  reports. 
Suddenly  he  becomes  idle  and  even  untruthful.     His  father 

1  Positions,  Ch.  39. 


122  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

enquires  into  the  matter.     The  child  confesses,   weeping, 

'  They  mocked  me,  and  would  not  play  with  me,  and  I 

couldn't  bear  it.'"1 

At  the   same  time  we  must  not  fail  to  remember  the 

srrowiiiff    assertiveness   which    marks    these 

Self-assertion     years,  especially  in  the  boy.    It  is  not  usually 
and   Group-        J  , .  *.    -.  ,  „  .     n  , 

consciousness.    au  assertion  ot  independence  ot  judgment  and 

opinion.  The  '  contrary '  child,  who  early 
shows  an  innate  tendency  always  to  take  the  other  side, 
is  exceptional.  Normally  it  is  rather  an  assertiveness  of 
individual  rights,  often  wrongly  conceived,  for  claims  are 
made  which  cannot  be  substantiated  and  which  the  self- 
willed  child  is  often  the  first  to  deny  to  others.  Any  one 
who  has  watched  a  number  of  boys  of,  say,  thirteen  or 
fourteen  years  old  at  play  knows  how,  unless  they  have 
been  disciplined  by  properly  organized  games,  their  voices 
clash  and  clang  continuously  in  remonstrance  and  self- 
assertion.  They  depart  in  no  wise  from  the  general 
opinion  of  their  companions  as  to  how  the  game  should 
be  played,  but  they  dispute  any  application  of  the  rules 
which  limits  their  own  favourite  form  of  activity,  indicates 
want  of  skill  on  their  part,  and  generally  does  not  leave 
them  in  untrammelled  freedom.  Sometimes  the  game  is 
broken  up,  and  a  boy  refuses  to  "  play  any  longer  "  because 
he  cannot  have  his  own  way. 

Thus,  group-consciousness  coexists  with  a  tendency 
which  is  antagonistic  to  group-action.  If  this  latter 
tendency  develops  it  becomes  unmitigated  selfishness,  and 
its  natural  outcome  is  that  the  adult  o*oes  through  life 
with  "  his  hand  against  every  man,  and  every  man's  hand 
against  him."  From  the  group-consciousness  of  his  youth 
such  an  one  will  simply  have  gathered  a  bundle  of  pre- 
judices and  opinions   which   he   twists   in   any   way,   no 

1  Report  of  First  International  Moral  Education  Congress,  p.  385. 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  123 

matter  how  unnatural,  which  will  make  them  minister  to 
his  private  will. 

The  effects  which  may  be  wrought  by  discipline  are  seen 

if  such  a  group  of  boys  as  we  have  described 
Discipline  ^e  comPare(l  with  a  team  of  boys  of  similar 

age  and  social  condition  who  have  been  well 
i  rained  and  each  of  whom  plays  for  his  side.  With  these  the 
group-consciousness  has  its  natural  outcome  in  harmonious 
group-action,  directed  by  group-purpose  and  seeking  group- 
welfare.  The  boy  still  does  his  utmost,  and  tries  in  doing 
it  to  surpass  his  fellows ;  but  his  motive  is  no  longer 
merely  his  personal  glory  and  pleasure  but  the  honour  of 
his  side,  and  to  that  he  will  even  sacrifice  himself  by 
yielding  place  to  another  when  the  welfare  of  the  side 
demands  it.  Discipline  lias  influenced  the  will  at  the 
same  time  that  group-consciousness  has  enriched  the  un- 
derstanding. 

2.  It  is  in  this  regulation  of  conduct  through  will  that 

the  disciplinary  work  of  the  school  consists. 
Obligations         hike  every  other  community,  a  school  has  to 

determine  practically  the  relations  of  right 
and  obligation  among  its  members.  Only  to  the  extent  to 
which  this  is  satisfactorily  accomplished  can  it  work  as  a 
community  at  all.  Now,  rights  and  obligations  are  comple- 
mentary :  they  are  two  terms  of  one  relation.  One  person's 
right  is  another  person's  obligation.  For  example,  the 
pupil's  right  to  be  taught  implies  the  teacher's  obligation 
to  teach  him.  But  the  right  carries  with  it  also  an  obli- 
gation on  him  whose  right  it  is  :  the  pupil's  right  to  be 
taught  implies  the  obligation  on  him  to  do  his  best  to 
learn.  Similarly,  the  master's  right  to  command  implies 
an  obligation  on  the  pupils  to  obey.  But  it  also  imposes 
on  the  master  the  obligation  to  be  just  and  reasonable  iu 
the  commands  he  gives.     Or,  to  take  again  the  case  of  a 


124  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

game.  Each  boy's  right  to  the  enjoyment  due  to  the 
combination  of  others  in  the  play  carries  with  it  the  obli- 
gation on  him  to  respect  the  same  rights  in  others,  to  be 
cheerful  and  spirited,  and  to  play  for  the  side,  as  well  as 
the  obligation  on  them  to  treat  him  fairly  and  allow  him 
his  full  share  in  the  fun. 

Rights  and  obligations,  therefore,  do  not  exist  simply 
between  individuals.  Each  individual  can  exercise  many 
rights  only  through  the  active  cooperation  or,  at  least,  the 
passive  concurrence  of  the  community  as  a  whole  or  of 
some  smaller  group  in  it.  Each  of  those  rights  carries 
with  it  a  corresponding  obligation  on  the  individual  to 
avoid  trespassing  on  the  rights  of  others  in  that  particular, 
and  to  regard  the  general  good  of  the  community  as  an 
end  to  be  sought  by  his  own  efforts.  So  the  right  to  share 
in  the  work  and  in  the  play  of  a  school  implies  the  obli- 
gation to  seek  in  each  the  good  of  the  school.  Thus  school 
life  gives  both  a  depth  and  a  comprehensiveness  to  duty, 
and  consequently  to  life,  which  the  child  cannot  get  else- 
where. 

3.  It  is  plain  that  the  obligation  to  work  for  the  whole 
is  binding  on  each ;  for  otherwise  it  would 
Community1  ^e  binding  on  none,  and  that  altogether  con- 
tradicts the  concept  of  a  community.  For  a 
community  is  essentially  a  body  of  persons,  large  or  small, 
united  together  to  attain  a  common  end  by  conjoint  effort. 
This  lies  on  the  face  of  those  smaller  associations  volun- 
tarily formed  by  persons  who  desire  to  carry  out  a  par- 
ticular religious,  social,  or  political  purpose.  The  larger 
the  community  the  more  vague  and  general  to  its  members 
is  the  idea  of  its  common  object,  and  consequently  the 
greater  scope  is  there  for  variety  in  the  ways  in  which  its 
individual  members  work  for  its  good.  Indeed,  the  com- 
mon good  may  not  be  consciously   apprehended   by    the 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  1 -•> 

members  as  the  end  of  endeavour.  Each  is  conscious  of 
seeking  his  own  good;  but  in  so  far  as  he  seeks  it  through 
honest  sharing  in  the  work  of  the  community  he,  in  such 
seeking,  is  making  for  the  common  good.  In  the  great 
community  of  a  modern  state  the  numbers  are  so  large, 
and  the  common  good  so  complex,  that  to  obey  the  laws, 
to  perform  certain  social  and  political  functions,  and  "to 
do  my  duty  in  that  state  of  life  unto  which  it  shall  please 
God  to  call  me  "!  sums  up  the  obligations  of  the  ordinary 
citizen,  corresponding  to  his  right  to  that  ordered  social 
life  which  alone  makes  his  individual  exertions  fruitful  or 
even  possible. 

In  the  school,  however,  we  have  a  society,  not  only  on  a 
small  scale  both  as  to  numbers  and  as  to  the  variations  of 
age  and  capacity  among  its  junior  members,  but  with  a 
definite  function  which  all  understand  more  or  less  per- 
fectly, and  with  a  fairly  fixed  form  of  constitution.  It  is, 
consequently,  comparatively  easy  to  get  a  clear  view  of  the 
rights  and  obligations  which  enter  into  it,  and  of  the  lines 
on  which  that  accommodation  of  possibly  conflicting  claims 
may  be  secured  which  will  enable  the  school  to  act  together 
as  a  community  for  the  attainment  of  its  common  purpose. 
In  it  the  ends  of  private  and  common  good  are  often  nicely 
balanced.  The  individual  child  seeks  what  seems  good  to 
him,  but,  as  we  have  said,  he  is  naturally  more  ready 
than  are  adults  to  seek  it  as  part  of  a  common  good 
which  he  himself  recognises  more  or  less  explicitly  as  an 
end.  He  works,  partly  at  any  rate,  for  the  credit  of 
his  school  or  of  his  class,  and  he  plays  for  the  glory 
of  his  side.  Certainly  the  common  end  looms  larger  to 
him  in  some  parts  of  the  school  life  than  in  others,  but 
seldom,  if  ever,  is  it  altogether  absent. 

1   The  Church  Catechism. 


126  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

4.  To  speak,  however,  of  a  community  organized  for  the 
attainment  of  a   common   end   implies  the 
Con^  in  t  existence  of  rules  of  community  life.     In  an 

earlier  chapter  we  have  insisted  that  the 
ultimate  moral  laws  are  natural  in  that  they  lay  down  the 
lines  human  life  must  follow  if  it  would  draw  continually 
nearer  to  perfection,  and,  further,  that  man  advances  in 
insight  into  their  inner  meaning-  and,  consequently,  into 
their  application  to  his  own  circumstances.1  It  is  obvious 
that  these  moral  laws  are  operative  in  every  community 
of  human  beings.  These  every  school  must  assume ;  of 
course,  in  the  best  and  highest  form  known  to  that  wider 
community  of  which  it  is  an  organ. 

But  as  these  great  laws  refer  to  the  living  of  life  as  a 
whole,  it  is  evident  that  there  are  others  of  narrower 
application  which  are  relative  to  special  forms  of  organized 
life.  The  point  to  be  insisted  on  is  this  :  the  true  lawTs  of 
any  community  are  not  mere  arbitrary  enactments,  but  are 
the  expression  of  its  nature  and  the  inherent  principles 
of  its  action.  Thus  they  express  those  relations  of  its 
members  to  itself  as  an  organized  whole,  and  to  each  other 
as  constituent  parts  of  that  whole,  which  make  their 
conjoint  efforts  effective.  That  is  to  say,  the  form  of  its 
organization  is  determined  by  its  purpose  on  the  one  hand 
and  by  the  nature  of  those  who  are  united  in  it  for  the 
attainment  of  that  purpose  on  the  other.  Now,  form  of 
organization  means  that  certain  correlative  rights  and 
obligations  are  made  explicit,  the  fulfilment  of  which  is  a 
necessary  condition  of  the  attainment  of  that  purpose. 
The  relations  of  right  and  obligation  themselves  are  im- 
plicit in  the  very  nature  of  the  organization ;  the  explicit 
statement  of  them  is  the  formulation  of  the  natural  laws 
of  that  community.     These  laws,  then,  are  discovered  and 

1  See  pp.  10G-10. 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  1-7 

enunciated,  not  made  by  arbitrary  caprice ;  their  statement 
makes  clear  what  the  form  or  nature  of  the  organization 
is,  they  do  not  give  it  thai  form.  For  any  law  which  is 
not  so  inherent  in  the  nature  of  the  community,  but  is 
imposed  from  without,  does  not  express  the  true  form  of 
the  community  but  deforms  it,  just  as  external  pressure 
on  a  limb  may  deform  that  limb,  that  is,  give  it  a  form 
foreign  to  its  real  nature,  and  so  antagonistic  to  its  true 
function.  Just  as  physical  forces  can  be  utilised  only 
when  their  true  nature  is  known  and  accepted,  so  the  pur- 
pose for  which  men  unite  in  a  community  can  be  accom- 
plished only  in  so  far  as  the  true  moral  laws  of  that 
community  are  recognised.  In  the  one  case  as  in  the  other 
disregard  of  natural  law  makes  success  impossible. 

The  true  laws  of  the  school  are,  then,  principles  of 
relation  between  its  members  which,  when  actualised,  make 
for  the  perfect  accomplishment  of  the  school  aim,  and,  in 
doing  so,  render  the  school  life  of  each  of  its  members  as 
full  and  as  free  as  possible.  For  only  when  the  individual 
lives  are  as  perfect  as  possible  can  the  conjoint  life  also 
approach  its  ideal. 

The  school,  however,  is  a  society  in  which  there  are 
different  ranks,  and,  consequently,  different 
A  Facto fv1  rights  and  obligations.  Let  us  illustrate  by 
considering  another  social  community  with  a 
definite  aim  and  a  more  or  less  pre- determined  organization, 
but  in  which  both  aim  and  organization  are  largely  material, 
and  so  are  more  immediately  obvious  than  in  the  case  of 
the  school  where  both  are  essentially  spiritual.  Take  the 
case  of  a  wrell  organized  factory.  There  we  have  a  body  of 
workers  with  specialised  skills  so  banded  together  and  with 
their  modes  of  working  so  related  that  a  certain  material  pro- 
duct results.  It  is  evident  that  the  quality  of  the  result  de- 
pends partly  on  the  good  will  and  honesty  of  the  individual 


128  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

workers,  partly  011  the  distribution  of  the  work  and  conse- 
quent organization  of  the  skill  of  the  workers,  and  partly 
on  the  material  appliances  of  buildings  and  machinery. 
No  matter  how  perfect  the  last  may  be  they  are  ineffective 
without  the  other  two.  The  most  essential  of  all  is  the 
first,  and  that  is  partly  relative  to  the  second,  and  yet  more 
to  the  personal  relations  between  the  workmen  and  officers 
of  various  grades  who  direct  them.  This  relation  will 
suffer  not  only  from  absence  of  justice  and  good  will  in 
the  treatment  of  individual  workers  or  bodies  of  workers, 
but  also  from  imperfect  adaptation  of  means  to  end 
whereby  the  most  willing  labour  is  robbed  of  part  of  its 
effectiveness.  Now  it  is  obvious  that  skill  in  organizing 
such  a  community  depends  on  knowledge  of  the  conditions 
of  factory  labour  in  general  and  of  this  kind  of  factory 
labour  in  particular,  and  on  insight  into  the  current  con- 
ditions of  the  industry  and  into  the  nature  and  aspirations 
of  the  workers  as  a  body. 

The  organization  is  expressed  in  rules  and  regulations 
enforced  by  penalties  for  non-observance.  To  the  extent  to 
which  the  officers  are  wise,  these  will  be  well  administered. 
To  the  extent  to  which  the  factory  owner  or  manager  is 
wise,  they  will  be  well  framed  ;  that  is,  they  will  be  derived 
from  the  knowledge  and  insight  of  which  we  have  spoken 
and  will,  therefore,  lay  down  the  conditions  of  effective 
cooperation.  So  far  as  they  do  this  they  may  be  accepted 
as  the  natural  laws  of  the  factory.  So  far  as  they  fail  to 
do  this  they  are  mere  arbitrary  enactments,  expressing  not 
the  real  life  of  the  factory  but  the  private  will  of  owner  or 
manager.  Of  course,  such  unnatural  laws  may  originate  in 
stupidity  rather  than  in  perversity  ;  but,  in  any  case,  so  far 
as  they  interfere  with  individual  liberty  they  provoke 
resentment  and  so,  by  lessening  the  good  will  of  the 
workers,  or  in  an  extreme  case  by  even  putting  them  in  an 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  L29 

opposite  camp  to  iiio  factory  authorities,  they  decrease,  or 
even  destroy,  the  efficiency  of  the  Factory.  A  dis-organized 
and  non-cooperat ive  society  is,  indeed,  a  society  only  in 
name.  And  in  the  factory,  as  in  other  societies,  coopera- 
tion is  possible  only  when  the  mode  of  reconciling  possibly 
conflicting  rights  and  obligations  has  been  found  and  made 
actual  by  embodiment  in  the  rules  and  regulations  imposed 
on  the  members  of  the  factory. 

5.  It    is    the    same    in    all    essentials    with    the    school, 
though  the  preponderance  of  group-consci- 

Organization  ousness  renders  the  work  of  securing  and 
of  the  School  •    ,    •    •  3.  i       -,   ,•  ,-i 

Community        maintaining  cordial  relations  easier  than   in 

a  community  of  adults,  mainly,  if  not 
altogether,  bound  together  by  the  bond  of  material 
interest.  The  bond  in  the  school  is  essentially  personal 
and  spiritual,  but  it  will  nevertheless  fail  as  between 
scholars  and  teachers  unless  the  school  laws  are  the  result 
of  a  true  insight  by  the  master  into  the  nature  of  school 
life.  Just  as  in  a  factory,  other  conditions  help.  Good 
buildings  and  sufficient  and  appropriate  apparatus  are 
desirable,  and  even  necessary  for  the  most  effective  school 
life.  Numerous  and  well  qualified  teachers,  a  wise  classi- 
fication of  scholars,  and  a  skilfully  constructed  time-table 
are  even  more  important.  But  they  will  all  be  in  vain  unless 
there  is  the  true  spirit,  and  this  is  impossible  unless  the 
teachers  are  both  sympathetic  and  wise,  not  simply  as 
men  but  as  schoolmasters. 

And,  we  must  add,  to  be  a  skilful  and  wise  schoolmaster 
is  quite  a  different  thing  from  being  a  skilful  teacher. 
Happy  is  he  in  whom  both  powers  are  combined ;  but  of 
those  who  have  but  the  one  form  of  excellence,  the  former 
is  evidently  the  better  Head-master,  and  the  latter  the 
better  assistant.  To  be  a  skilful  schoolmaster  is  to 
have  that  knowledge  and  insight  which  enables  one  to 
m,  d.  s.  9 


130  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

develop  an  organization  governed  by  rules  and  regulations 
which  will  make  that  particular  school,  with  its  particular 
pupils,  staff,  buildings,  and  apparatus,  the  most  efficient 
instrument  it  is  capable  of  becoming  for  the  true  edu- 
cation of  its  scholars. 

Such  an  organization  secures  the  hearty  cooperation  of 
the  pupils  in  the  general  work  of  the  school.  For  its 
purpose  is  their  purpose,  and  even  their  private  purposes 
are  related  to  the  general  purpose  as  tributaries  to  a  river. 
Without  this,  indeed,  the  school  is  not  a  community  at  all. 
Too  often  a  school  has  been  divided  into  two  camps — 
masters  and  boys — in  a  permanent  state  of  warfare,  gener- 
ally tacit  but  breaking  out  into  open  hostilities  when  govern- 
ment was  weak  or  provocation  on  either  side  more  than 
usually  severe.  With  the  advent  of  more  gentle  govern- 
ment this  has  been  generally  mitigated  into  at  least  a 
neutrality,  more  or  less  friendly.  But  the  cases  in  which 
there  has  been  developed  a  strenuous  acceptance  of  school 
purpose,  a  living  bond  of  school  communion,  a  feeling  that 
the  honour  of  the  school  is  the  care  of  everv  one  of  its 
members  are  by  no  means  the  rule,  especially  in  primary 
schools,  where,  of  course,  the  great  numbers,  the  early  age 
of  leaving,  the  inadequacy  in  numbers  of  the  staff,  the 
frequent  ineffectiveness  of  the  organization  of  games  and 
other  outdoor  pursuits  with  the  limitation  of  function  to 
mere  lessons,  and  often  the  home  tone,  all  make  the  task 
of  securing  it  exceptionally  difficult. 

Another,  and  a  growing,  obstacle  to  the  perfect  organiza- 
tion of  schools  is  the  increasing  tendency 
Bureaucracv  towards  bureaucracy  in  English  education. 
The  various  local  authorities,  whose  duty  it 
is  to  attend  to  the  material  elements  in  school  orcraniza- 

o 

tion,  too  often  take  upon  themselves  the  regulation  of  the 
internal  organization  as  well.     They  direct  what  is  to  be 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  lol 

taught,  when  children  are  to  be  promoted,  what  time  may 
be  given  to  games,  what  punishments  may  be  inflicted  and 
who  may  inflict  them,  and  often,  by  means  of  officials,  lliey 
direct  the  inner  work  of  the  school  in  detail  as  well  as  in 
bulk.  Nor  is  the  central  authority — the  Board  of  Educa- 
tion— innocent  of  similar  interference.  Unhappily  all  these 
administrative  bodies  are  as  incompetent  for  this  as  they 
are — or  should  be — competent  for  their  proper  functions. 
"There  is  no  dead  hand  so  dead  as  living  power  thrust  in 
on  work  from  the  outside.  It  is  the  doctor  putting  his 
lingers  on  the  heart  when  he  ought  to  feel  the  pulse."1 
So  wrote  Edward  Thring,  one  of  the  greatest  English  head- 
masters of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  well  would  it  be  if 
our  twentieth  century  bureaucracies  would  take  his  words 
to  heart.  Unhappily,  at  present  the  paralysing  influence 
is  creeping  upwards  from  the  primary  to  the  secondary 
schools  and  even  threatening  the  universities.  The  Educa- 
tion Committees  of  Local  Authorities  should  be  analogous 
to  Boards  of  Directors  of  Limited  Liability  Companies, 
which  direct  general  policy  but  leave  internal  organization 
to  the  Managing  Director.  The  Head  Teacher  should  be 
the  Managing  Director  of  the  School :  he  has  the  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  actual  conditions  of  that  school  which 
nobody  who  remains  outside  it  can  have.  And  he  has  a 
personal  interest  in  its  efficiency  which  is  stimulated  by 
trust  and  deadened  by  even  an  implied  suspicion  that  he 
is  either  something  of  a  knave  or  a  good  deal  of  a  fool. 
Moreover,  a  school  cannot  be  a  perfect  social  organization 
unless  its  ostensible  head  be  its  real  head.  The  outside 
authority  cannot  form  part  of  the  school  community  either 
in  theory  or  in  fact ;  consequently,  laws  imposed  by  it  cannot 
bear  on  their  face  the  appearance  of  natural  expressions  of 
the  school's  life  and  work. 

1  Parkin  :    Life  ami  Letters  of  Edward  Thring,  p.  244. 


132  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 


The  Head-teacher,  then,  should  have  freedom  to  organ- 
ize his  school.  But  he  should  regard  this 
Func  ions  o  freedom  only  as  that  true  freedom  which 
means  unhindered  effort  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  school  purpose,  and  he  should  remember  that 
unwise  regulations  will  be  the  most  fatal  of  all  hindrances 
to  those  efforts.  He  should,  therefore,  give  much  thought 
to  the  character  of  his  school  and  make  clear  to  himself 
what  principles  are  implied  in  it.  These  only  should  he 
formulate  as  laws.  Of  every  suggested  rule  he  should  ash 
the  question,  "  In  what  way,  and  to  what  degree,  would 
this  make  for  the  realisation  of  unity  of  effort  directed 
towards  the  purpose  of  the  school  to  promote  learning  and 
a  disciplined  life  ?  " 

When  the  school  laws  really  facilitate  the  work  of  the 
school  it  is  not  difficult  to  make  it  clear  to 
ofL&w1  10n  pupils  who  have  in  any  way  infringed  them 
that  by  their  action  they  are  frustrating  the 
very  purpose  for  which  the  school  exists,  and  that,  there- 
fore, they  are  infringing  the  rights  of  their  school-fellows. 
The  law  is  seen  to  be  something  much  more  than  the 
private  will  of  an  absolute  ruler  who  regards  himself  as 
outside  the  range  of  its  operation.  When  it  is  this,  indeed, 
the  master  is  essentially  a  tyrant,  that  is,  one  ruling 
regardless  of  any  law  except  his  own  will  or  caprice ;  the 
whole  government  is  external  regulation  of  conduct  with 
no  power  of  forming  character — unless,  indeed,  it  form  il 
by  instinctive  revulsion  from  mere  personal  rule,  and  then 
the  formation  is  apt  to  be  the  exact  opposite  to  what  is 
desired ;  the  school  is  split  up  by  the  master's  action  into 
the  two  opposed  camps  of  teachers  and  pupils. 

But  when  the  laws  are  plainly  determined  by  the  needs 
of  the  school  the  master  is  seen  to  promulgate  them  rather 
than  to  make  them.     The  unity  of  the  school  is  main- 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  138 

tained;  for  the  master,  equally  with  Hie  pupils,  is  subject 

to  the  laws,  fli  >ugh,  of  course,  the  mode  of  his  observance 
will  differ  from  that  of  (he  scholars,  inasmuch  as  li i s 
position  in  the  school  is  different  from  theirs.  For  example, 
the  law  requiring  attention  and  industry  equally  binds 
teacher  and  scholar.  But  the  former  fulfils  it  in  his 
preparation  of  lessons  and  earnestness  in  teaching;  the 
latter  in  faithful  endeavour  to  profit  by  this  work  of  the 
former. 

Some  rules,  too,  may  regulate  the  scholar's  behaviour 
and  not  that  of  the  teacher  at  all.  For  instance,  at  a 
boarding  school  the  boys  may  be  forbidden  to  go  out  of 
bounds  while  no  similar  restriction  applies  to  the  masters. 
Such  regulations  are  only  special  expressions  of  more 
fundamental  laws,  and  may  even  vary  in  their  application 
to  pupils  of  different  standing,  as  when  privileges  are  given 
to  the  elder  which  are  withheld  from  the  younger.  Equal 
subordination  to  law  does  not  mean  that  every  member  of 
the  school  is  under  rules  identical  in  detail,  but  that  every 
one  is  bound  by  certain  broad  principles  which  make  for 
the  efficient  carrying  out  of  the  work  of  the  school  and 
which  find  appropriate  expression  in  ways  differing  accord- 
ing to  the  different  relations  to  the  school  community  of 
those  to  whom  they  apply. 

6.  This  is  implied  in  the  constitution  of  the  school,  and, 
therefore,  to  neglect  it  would  be  to  negate 

Characteris-       the  general  principle  we  are  discussing.     For 

tics  of  School  ,      i  v  ->    ,.  •  i  t 

Laws  .  a   school    implies    gradations    m    rank  and, 

consequently,  in  function.  The  immaturity 
of  the  pupils  and  the  purpose  for  which  they  attend  the 
school  imply  that  they  are  there  in  a  position  of  subordina- 
tion to  the  master.  In  the  smallest  and  most  simply  organ- 
ized schools  these  two  essential  terms  constitute  the  whole. 
In  larger  and  more  complex  organizations  there  intervene 


134  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

various    other    grades,    each    in    subordination    to    those 

above,  and  in  authority  over  those  below,  such  as  assistant 

teachers,  prefects,  and  other  officers  appointed  from  amoui;' 

the  elder  pupils  to  exercise  certain  defined  powers  over  the 

younger.      But  the    great    dividing    line  is    between  the 

masters  on  the  one  hand  and  the  pupils  on  the  other,   and 

that  is,  consequently,  the  place  in  the  organization  where 

division  is  most  apt  to  develop  into  cleavage. 

Attempts  to  ignore  this  line  of  division,  to  abolish  the 

relation  of  authority  on  the  one  hand  and 

Grounded  in       cjue  respect  and  subordination  on  the  other 
Authority  and  ,x  ,  ,        ,.        ,    „  .,  ,, 

Sympathy  ;         are  as  doomed  to  educational  tailure  as  the 

custom,  against  winch  they  are  the  excessive 

reaction,  of  so  emphasizing  it  that  authority  becomes  mere 

compulsion,  and  subordination  mere  servility  tempered  by 

rebellion. 

Each  extreme  is  to  be  avoided.  The  teacher  is  neither 
a  being  of  another  world  ruling  from  without,  nor  is  he 
simply  an  equal  among  equals.  Master  and  pupils  are 
engaged  in  the  same  work  in  one  sense,  and  in  comple- 
mentary work  in  another  sense.  The  one  work  of  educating 
the  young  demands  the  cooperation  of  two  quite  different 
but  complementary  forms  of  striving  of  teacher  and  taught, 
of  guider  and  guided. 

The  ultimate  basis  of  authority,  indeed,  is  sympathy — 
that  true  sympathy  which  prompts  the  elder  to  under- 
stand, and  to  help  in  every  way,  even  by  severity  if  need 
be,  the  young  soul  he  is  training  ;  not  that  maudlin 
sentimentality  which  risks  a  child's  soul  rather  than  cause 
him  any  momentary  pain  or  discomfort.  Without  such 
sympathy  the  exercise  of  authority  wears  a  harsh  and 
repellent  mien.  "  The  very  meaning  of  education,"  wrote 
Sydney  Smith,  "  seems  to  us  to  be  that  the  old  should 
teach   the  young,  and  the  wise  direct  the  weak  ;   that  a 


•ill  B    BCHOOL    COM  :M  I   N  [TY.  I  3  - 

man  who  professes  to  instruct  should  gel  among  his  pupils, 
study  their  characters,  gain  their  affections,  and  form  their 
inclinations  and  aversions." ]  Ii  would  be  difficult  to  state 
better  or  more  lucidly  the  essential  features  of  the  true 
relation  between  master  and  scholar. 

Certainly  the  last  hundred  years  have  seeD  a  great 
development  of  the  idea  of  individual  liberty,  but,  as  has 
been  before  pointed  out,  this  <1<><is  not  negate  a  legitimate 
exercise  of  authority.2  It  is  unregulated  and  unreasonable 
constraint  which  provokes  the  will  to  rebellion.  "Reasonable 
obedience  is  extremely  useful  in  forming  the  disposition. 
Submission  to  tyranny  lays  the  foundation  of  hatred, 
suspicion,  cunning,  and  a  variety  of  odious  passions." 
Obedience  to  school  rules  is  recognised  by  the  pupils  as 
reasonable  when  disobedience  is  seen  to  hinder  the  work 
for  which  the  school  exists.  This  they  will  not  see,  how- 
ever, because  they  will  refuse  to  see  it,  unless  the  authority 
is  based  on  sympathy,  so  that  its  exercise  is  kindly. 
"  Thou  wilt  catch  more  flies  with  a  spoonful  of  honey  than 
with  a  cask  of  vinegar,"  says  an  old  Arabic  proverb  which 
every  teacher  may  well  take  as  a  parable,  though,  in  inter- 
preting it  he  should  remember  that  an  unmixed  diet  of 
honey  is  good  neither  for  soul  nor  for  body. 

At  the  same  time  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the 
reasonableness  of  school  law  manifests  itself 

nessS°na  6  as  gracluairy  to  the  children  as  does  the 
nature  of  other  laws.  With  young  children 
the  law  is,  as  it  were,  embodied  in  the  teacher,  and  its 
reasonableness  and  justice  are  taken  for  granted  just  to 
the  extent  to  which  they  trust  and  respect  him.  Affection 
will  not  compensate  for  the  absence  of  these  relations, 
though  they  are  strengthened  by  its  presence;  for  children. 

1  Article  on  "Public  Schools  "  :  Edinburgh  Review,  1810. 

2  Cf.  pp.  44-48.  3  Sydney  Smith,  ibid. 


136  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

like  adults,  love  many  of  whose  weaknesses  thev  are 
quite  well  aware.  Indeed,  they  often  show  their  insight 
into  them  in  unmistakable,  and  generally  inconvenient, 
ways. 

Strict  insistence  on  obedience  to  the  laws  forms  habi- 
tudes as  well  as  habits  when  the  ruler  is  both  trusted  and 
revered.  Then  all  hindrance  of  these  habitudes  by  the 
disobedience  of  others  is  felt  as  a  personal  wrong.  The 
reason  is  plain  :  the  disobedience  is  seen  to  interfere  with 
the  desired  course  of  conduct.  The  teacher's  reference  of 
all  school  wrong-doing,  to  the  extent  to  which  the  scholars 
can  understand  it,  to  interference  with  the  success  of  some 
part  of  school  life  clarifies  the  idea.  The  growing  strength 
of  the  group-consciousness  strengthens  the  feeling  of 
solidarity.  At  last  the  individual  recognises  that  his 
own  breaking  of  law  is  antagonistic  to  the  public  weal, 
and  in  such  recognition  sees  the  reasonableness  of  the 
law. 

It  is  thus  plain  that  when  a  school  law  is  said  to  be 
reasonable  it  is  not  implied  that  its  reasonableness  is  per- 
ceived by  every  pupil.  Still  less  is  it  meant  that  the 
teacher  should  engage  in  argument  to  prove  to  a  pupil 
that  he  has  done  wrong  in  breaking  the  law.  The  funda- 
mental wrong  is  disobedience,  and  of  that  the  culprit  is 
quite  conscious.  The  mere  existence  of  the  law  is  sufficient 
reason  for  him  to  obey  it,  though  it  is  not  adequate  reason 
for  its  maintenance.  That  must  be  found  by  the  teacher 
in  considerations  such  as  those  which  should  have  deter- 
mined its  original  promulgation.  Indeed,  it  may  happen 
that,  owing  to  some  important  change  of  conditions,  a 
reasonable  law  becomes  unreasonable.  For  the  special 
laws  of  a  school  are  not  like  the  ultimate  laws  of  morality  . 
They  are  all  derivative,  and  are  but  means  relative  to  an 
end  to  be  attained  in  certain  definite  circumstances. 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  137 

If  a  school  law  is  really  reasonable  it  is  just,  because  ii 

_  expresses   a  trim  relation   between  differenl 

members  of  the  school  community.  This 
again,  especially  with  young  boys  and  girls,  is  chiefly  a 
matter  for  the  teacher's  judgment.  The  pupils  are  more 
intimately  concerned  with  just  administration  of  the  Law. 
As  to  this  their  feelings  are  very  keen:  "In  the  little 
world  in  which  children  have  their  existence,  Whosoever 
brings  them  up,  there  is  nothing  so  finely  perceived  and 
so  finely  felt  as  injustice."1  They  resent  all  that  appears 
to  them  unjust:  all  differential  treatment  of. pupils  which 
is  not  obviously  grounded  in  differences  of  conduct  or 
strength  in  the  children  so  treated ;  all  excess  of  punish- 
ment relatively  to  the  known  offence ;  all  capriciousness 
wherebv  what  is  forbidden  one  dav  is  allowed  the  next 
according  to  the  teacher's  temper  or  memory.  Generally 
they  are  right.  A  fair  administration  of  laws  just  in 
themselves  provokes  no  feeling  of  injustice  even  in  cases 
in  which  breaches  are  commonly  met  with  considerable 
severity.  That  may  lead  to  diminution  of  affection  for 
the  teacher  but  not  to  decrease  of  respect.  Like  Dr. 
Temple  at  Rugby  he  may  be  esteemed  "  a  beast,  but  a  just 
beast," 

Differences  of  treatment  are  not  regarded  as  unjust 
when  they  are  seen  to  be  well  grounded.  Indeed,  justice 
itself  calls  for  such  differentiation.  A  habitual  offender 
is  not  m  the  same  category  as  the  generally  righteous 
person  who  yields  to  a  strong  temptation  and  repents. 
Nor  is  a  child  of  delicate  nervous  physique  in  the  same 
condition  as  the  robust  young  pachyderm  overflowing  with 
mischief.  Differences  of  treatment  obviouslv  motived  bv 
such  evident  differences  as  these  do  not  fall  under  the  ban 
of  a  healthy  school  opinion  as  unjust. 

1  Dickens,  Great  Expectations,  Ch.  VIII. 


138  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

No  discussion  is  needed  to  show  that  justice  requires 
that  those  laws  which  do  apply  to  the  conduct 
of  the  pupils  should  be  known  and  under- 
stood by  them.    It  is  as  well,  too,  that  this  knowledge  should 
be  shared  by  their  parents.      A  few  simple  laws,  stated 
clearly  and,  whenever  possible,  in  positive  form,  should  be 
printed  on  cards  and  given  to  the  parents  when  the  child 
is  admitted  and  on  the  covers  of  the  child's  Report  Book 
or  Home-work  Book,  so  that  they  may  be  kept  before  his 
mind.    It  would  be  well,  too,  if  they  were  read  publicly  by  the 
Head-teacher  on  such  important  occasions  as  the  begin- 
ning of  a  new  term,  and  publicly  explained  and  illustrated. 
Conspicuous  public  breaches  of  any  of  them  give  further 
opportunities  for  drawing  specific  attention  to  their  existence. 
The  rides  should  be  as  few  as  is  consistent  with  efficient 
rea'ulation  of  conduct.     To  so  further  is  to 

Brpadth 

cease  to  be  reasonable  and  to  interfere  un- 
necessarily with  liberty  of  action.  The  result  of  this  is 
irritation  on  the  part  of  the  children  whose  liberty  is 
cramped  at  every  turn,  leading  to  continual  breach  of 
some  trivial  rule  :  this  induces  counter-irritation  in  the 
teacher  who  responds  with  reproof  or  punishment.  So 
the  mutual  ill  feeling  grows,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the 
class  or  school  becomes  one  of  sullen  maliciousness  on  the 
side  of  the  scholars  and  of  ill-tempered  nagging  on  that  of 
the  teacher.  But  if  the  principle  be  adhered  to  of  impos- 
ing no  regulations  which  cannot  be  justified  by  considera- 
tion of  their  influence  on  the  life  and  work  of  the  school 
this  danger  is  altogether  avoided. 

7.  The  existence  of  every  community  carries  with  it  the 

right  to  enforce  the  observance  of  its  laws. 
Enforcement  Th  im  f  tl  school  iu  guch  collstnimt  of 
of  Law  :  . 

outward  conduct   is    to   influence   the  will. 

The  principles  we  have  just  considered  are  those  on  which 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  L39 

it  must  act  if  it  would  secure  this  end.  -But  the  einl  is 
attained  gradually  and  uever  altogether  perfectly.  There 
is  always,  then,  a  call  for  outward  regulation  of  conduct. 
Offences  against  school  law  will  arise,  and  the  school  must 
repress  these  or  its  work  will  become  impossible  and  its 
society  an  anarchy. 

It  is  convenient  to  call  all  outward  constraint  '  Govern- 
ment'   and  all    educative   influence  on   the 
Government;         ...      _.     .   _.       ,       _.  . 

will  'Discipline.       Government    may   be  an 

instrument  of  discipline,  but  only  in  so  far  as  it  operates 
on  the  will  of  the  child.  Still,  government  is  needful  even 
when  it  does  not  so  operate.  The  younger  the  children 
the  more  do  they  require  government,  for  the  greater  is 
their  need  for  specific  guidance  and  the  less  is  their  power 
of  self-control.  No  more  absurd  doctrine  was  ever  preached 
than  that  government  should  increase  with  years ;  so  that  the 
younger  the  children  the  more  should  they  be  left  to  their 
own  guidance — or  had  we  not  better  say,  lack  of  guidance  ? 
Government  is  not  cruelty  ;  it  is  the  truest  kindness, 
and,  indeed,  is  welcomed  by  children  so  long  as  it  is  kept 
within  judicious  bounds.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that 
as  the  years  increase  government  should  become  needless 
and  the  instrument  of  discipline  be  more  the  influence  of 
the  educator  on  the  reason  and  will  of  the  educated.  Even 
discipline  itself  should  in  time  become  unnecessary,  and 
yield  its  place  to  self-discipline.  But  this  stage  cannot 
be  reached  by  the  age  of  fourteen,  or  sixteen,  or  even 
eighteen ;  though,  of  course,  the  approach  should  become 
more  and  more  rapid  as  the  years  increase.  Unhappily, 
this  is  often  ignored,  and  the  school  endeavours  to  turn 
out  premature  men  and  women  at  the  ages  of  thirteen  or 
fourteen.  The  result  is  seen  in  a  growing  and  general 
want  of  self-control  which  is  causing  much  searching  of 
heart  among  many  worthy  folk. 


140  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

Government,   then,    is   insistence  on    obedience   to  law 

„     .  .  whether  the   will   of  the    governed  consent 

Punishment.  ■,■,-, 

or  not.     Happily,  it  generally  does  conseut 

when  the  school  is  well  organized  and  is  officered  by 
sympathetic  and  moderately  wise  teachers.  Then  govern- 
ment is  an  instrument  of  discipline.  But  even  then  offences 
will  come  ;  for  childhood  is  thoughtless  and  impulsive,  and 
its  wrong  doings,  if  venial,  are  apt  to  be  frequent.  The 
reaction  of  government  on  offence  is  punishment,  and  its 
justification  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  it  is  a  reaction 
of  the  school  society  on  that  which  would  impede  its  proper 
activity.  The  kinds  of  punishment  and  their  appropriate- 
ness for  various  faults  will  be  discussed  in  a  later  chapter.1 
>  Suffice  it  here  to  say  that  punishment  explicitly  appeals  to 
the  sentiment  of  fear.  Now,  fear  is  good  so  long  as  it  is 
fear  of  evil.  The  fear  of  punishment  is  designed  to  develop 
into  fear  of  committing  the  wrong  which  entails  the  punish- 
ment. When  this  is  accomplished  the  evil  is  avoided,  and, 
as  a  consequence,  the  punishment  is  escaped.  Thus,  punish- 
ment is  most  effective  when  it  ceases  to  be  actual.  This 
is  when  the  child  has  attained  enough  self-control  to  be 
independent  of  government  in  that  part  of  his  conduct. 

(In  other  words,  punishment  is  designed  to  lead  to  repent- 
ance, and  repentance  to  amendment  of  life. 

Looked  at  thus  it  is  evident  that  punishment  may  be  a 
considerable  help  to  a  child.  He  may  even  see  this  himself 
and  desire  punishment  as  a  partial  expiation  of  a  fault 
which  he  recognises  as  serious  and  which  he  earnestly 
desires  to  amend.  Thus,  it  may  be  doing  him  an  injury 
to  deprive  him  of  the  punishment  due  to  his  fault,  and  to 
which  he  has  a  right.  No  parent  would  be  held  unkind 
who  insisted  on  his  child's  taking  an  unpleasant  medicine 
necessary  to  cure  some  physical  ill.     Surely  still  less  is  he, 

1  See  Chap.  X. 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  141 

or  any  other  educator,  unkind  if  he  inflict  unpalatable 
punishment  on  a  child  when  he  is  convinced  that  it  is  just 

the  moral  medicine  he  needs.  The  child  is  impulsive,  but 
if  the  occasion  to  do  a  wronj,'  deed  recalls  the  unpleasant 
consequences  which  experience  of  past  punishment  has 
taught  him  will  follow,  he  is  given  pause;  his  conscience 
is  aroused,  his  will  has  time  to  put  forth  its  full  strength, 
and  the  contrary  impulse  is  hindered  and  lessened  by  fear 
of  the  punishment. 

The  evil  of  punishment  is  not  in  its  existence  but  in  the 
unwisdom  with  which  it  is  often  inflicted.  Punishment 
is,  as  we  have  said,  moral  medicine;  and  medicine  can  no 
more  be  the  food  of  the  soul  than  of  the  bod  v.  Punish- 
ment  should,  therefore,  be  infrequent,  and  should  be  re- 
stricted to  cases  in  which  its  assistance  in  enforcing-  law  is 
necessary. 

Again,  it  should  always  be  a  social  matter,  and  never 
the  reply  of  an  individual  governor  to  a  personal  affront. 
Too  often  in  practice  it  expresses  the  anger  of  parent  or 
teacher  at  some  act  which,  though  annoying,  is  not  wrong. 
A  child,  for  example,  is  punished  by  its  mother  for 
breaking,  purely  by  accident,  a  valuable  ornament,  while 
really  serious  faults  are  ignored.  The  measure  of  such 
punishment  is  not  the  child's  fault  but  the  parent's  annoy- 
ance. 

On  quite  as  unworthy  lines  is  the  punishment  of  children 
in  school  for  intellectual  ineptitude,  physiological  short- 
comings, atmospheric  conditions,  or  unsatisfactory  states 
of  the  teacher's  nerves  or  digestion.  A  wrong  estimate  of 
the  fault  is  at  the  root  of  all  bad  punishment  whether  it 
be  bad  in  amount,  in  kind,  or  in  occasion.  Let  one  of  the 
fundamental  laws  of  the  school  be  that  in  every  case  the 
teacher  should  make  quite  sure  of  the  facts,  as  sure  as 
possible  as  to  what  moved  the  child  to  do  the  wrong  act, 


142  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

and  then  put  the  most  favourable  construction  possible 
on  the  whole  case.  Of  course,  this  law  would  not  be 
promulgated  among  the  pupils  as  it  refers  not  to  their 
conduct  but  to  that  of  the  teachers.  But  the  teachers 
should  recognise  that  it  is  one  of  the  most  direct  corollaries 
from  the  fundamental  principle  of  justice. 

8.  The  need  for  government  implies  that  the  child  is 
dependent  upon  others  for  guidance.  The 
aim  of  education  is  to  fit  him  to  guide  him- 
self. The  connecting  link  is  discipline.  Discipline  is 
determination  of  will,  as  government  is  determination  of 
conduct.  Of  course,  the  former  determination  always  in- 
volves the  latter,  though  the  latter  does  not  necessarily 
imply  the  former.  Still  it  may  carry  the  former  with  it, 
and  then  government  is  itself  an  instrument  of  discipline. 
This  can  only  take  place  when  the  exercise  of  government 
is  accepted  by  the  governed  as  the  enforcement  of  a  law 
which,  though  broken,  is  recognised  as  right,  and,  conse- 
quently, as  morally  binding.  In  this  recognition  we  have 
disciplinary  influence  on  will. 

It  is  evident  that  in  a  school  the  teacher  governs  directly, 
though  in  exercising  authority  he  acts  not  simply  for  him- 
self, but  as  the  representative  of  the  whole  school  com- 
munity. The  school,  in  the  ultimate  analysis,  governs  itself 
through  its  head.  But  only  in  the  ultimate  analvsis.  The 
attempt  to  make  a  school  community  directly  govern  itself 
as  a  kind  of  republic  negates  the  very  idea  of  education 
as  the  direction  of  the  young  by  the  more  mature.  It  is 
only  in  the  sense  that  the  school  laws  are  inherent  in  the 
nature  of  the  school  as  a  community  that  it  can  be  said  to 
govern  itself.  It  is  the  origin  of  its  own  law ;  but  it 
administers  that  law  through  an  executive  officer  to  whom 
the  very  nature  of  its  constitution  gives  very  extensive 
powers. 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  1  1M 

The  corporate  nature  of  Ilie  school   life  must    still    be 

,  m  borne  in  mind  when  influence  on  the  pupils' 

School  Tone.  ...  .  .    n     %    J 

wills  is  being  considered.      For,  indeed,  that 

life  is  the  great  moulding  agent.     We  have  already  seen 

that   school   years  are  those   in   which    a   child   is    most 

influenced    by   his  companions.     From   them   he  borrows 

wavs  of   looking  at    school    matters.     He    imitates    their 

attitude  towards  the  teachers,  towards  the  lessons,  towards 

the  games  ;  he  accepts  their  standard  of  schoolboy  honour, 

and,  as  a  rule,  he   acts   upon   that  rather  than  upon  the 

teacher's   exhortations  when  the   two  are  not   in   accord. 

It  is  doubtful  if  a  teacher  ever  yet  convinced  a  decent  boy 

who  was  not  a  prefect  that  to  report  to  him  the  wrong  deeds 

of  a  school-felloAv  was  to  fulfil  a  righteous  duty,  and  not 

to  be  a  mean  and  contemptible  sneak.     Rather  does  such 

an  attempt  cause  the  boy  to  classify  the  teacher  in  a  way 

ihe  latter  would  not  regard  as  complimentary. 

The  teacher,  then,  can  exercise  but  little  influence  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  general  opinion,  of  the  school. 
School  tradition  is  powerful,  and  even  so  strong  a  reformer 
as  Arnold  may  find  it  largely  neutralise  his  efforts  when  it 
is  opposed  to  them.  There  is  only  one  way  of  meeting 
such  a  case — the  school  opinion  must  be  changed.  With- 
out its  general  concurrence  there  may  be  government  but 
there  can  be  little  real  discipline. 

The  failure  to  recognise  this  and  the  regarding  of  discipline 
as  essentially  a  personal  relation  between  master  and  indi- 
vidual scholar  has  often  led  to  a  limitation  of  discipline 
to  government,  and  has  found  the  perfection  of  school 
discipline  in  a  repression  of  all  individual  initiative,  in 
an  exaggerated  culture  of  immobility,  in  a  reduction  of 
human  children  as  far  as  possible  to  marionettes  who 
dance  only  when  the  strings  are  pulled  by  the  teacher, 
who,  on  his  side,  apparently  takes  the  drill-sergeant  as  his 


144  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

model  and  the  barrack-yard  as  his  school  ideal.  No  more 
untrustworthy  test  of  discipline  can  be  found  than  such  a 
machine-like  ordering  of  outward  conduct.1  The  human 
mind  spontaneously  tends  to  reject  the  influence  of  one 
who  pushes  his  interference  into  every  trivial  detail  of 
behaviour.  Moreover,  in  activity  so  externally  ordered 
there  is  left  no  room  for  individual  judgment  as  to  what 
to  do.  So  the  habitude  is  formed  of  doing  nothing  in 
school  matters  which  is  not  explicitly  ordered.  Out  of 
school  it  is  quite  another  thing.  There  no  such  regulation 
exists,  and,  as  a  consequence,  the  child  follows  every 
impulse,  and,  in  his  reaction  against  undue  restraint, 
those  impulses  attract  him  most  which  have  a  spice  of 
lawlessness  about  them.  No  more  successful  culture- 
ground  of  the  hooligan  exists  than  the  school  in  which 
reigns  a  strict  martinet  government,  into  which  no  warmth 
of  human  sympathy  is  allowed  to  enter  lest  it  should  relax 
that  wonderful  'order'  which  delights  the  foolish  and 
saddens  the  wise. 

The  school  as  a  community  is,  then,  the  fount  of 
discipline  as  of  government.  Indeed,  it  exerts  its  discipline 
much  more  directly  than  it  does  its  government.  Or, 
conversely,  the  teacher  governs  directly,  but  he  disciplines 
mainly  indirectly  through  his  inspiration  of  the  school 
tone.  For,  ultimately,  the  school  tone  will  reflect  his  if 
he  is  fit  to  be  its  head.  The  really  good  disciplinarian  is 
he  who  can  infuse  into  the  school  as  a  whole  his  own 
general  attitude  towards  life  and  its  duties.  To  do  this 
demands  wisdom  and  strength  and  tact.  But  unless  it  is 
done  the  school  is  but  a  poor  place  of  education.  A  really 
weak  teacher  not  only  fails  to  maintain  his  personal 
authority  but,  to  the  extent  of  his  weakness,  he  prevents 
his  school  from  being  a  place  of  true  education  at  all.  For 
1  Cf.  the  examples  on  pp.  il-12. 


TI1K    S<  HOOIi    COMBS  CfNIT  i  .  i  \> 

as  each  scholar  is  young  and  Qeeds  guidance,  so  it  is  with 
t  lir  whole  scholar  community.  Left  to  themselves,  children 
are  sure  to  go  wrong,  and  they  are  certainly  not  being 
educated,  that  is,  trained  up  in  the  way  they  should  go. 
"A  few  boys  are  incorrigibly  idle,  and  a  few  incorrigibly 
eager  for  knowledge  ;  but  the  great  mass  are  in  a  state  of 
doubt  and  fluctuation:  and  they  come  to  school  for  tin 
express  purpose,  not  of  being  left  to  themselves — for  that 
could  be  done  anywhere — -but  that  their  wavering  tastes 
and  propensities  should  be  decided  by  the  intervention  of 
a  master."1 

The  recognition,  then,  of  the  primary  importance  of  the 
school  tone  as  an  instrument  of  discipline  in  no  way  lessens 
the  teacher's  responsibility  but  rather  increases  it.  "  As  is 
the  teacher,  so  is  the  school,'"  and  the  wise  direction  of  a 
force  which  works  so  indirectly  demands  even  more  skill 
than  does  the  exercise  of  that  direct  personal  influence 
which  he  has  also  to  bring  to  bear,  from  time  to  time,  on 
individual  pupils,  and  which  forms  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant of  the  connecting  links  between  his  own  personality 
and  the  general  tone  of  the  school. 

Here  we  are  met  by  the  possibility  of  a  danger  the 
opposite  to  that  of  the  weak  disciplinarian — the  danger  of 
the  overwhelming  disciplinarian.  The  really  good  disci- 
plinarian is  not  he  whose  personality  so  dominates  those 
of  his  pupils,  that  the  latter  are  but  pale  reflexions  of 
himself.  Each  individual  spiritual  life  is  sacred,  and  it  can 
attain  its  full  strength  only  on  the  condition  that  it  grows 
in  freedom — a  freedom  marked,  it  is  true,  by  limits,  but 
by  limits  which  in  themselves  help  it,  as  they  make  it 
easier  for  the  will  to  attain  control  over  the  passions. 
Indeed,  the  too  dominating  personality,  who  imposes  him- 
self without  restraint   on  his  pupils,  so   that  nothing  in 

1  Sydney  Smith  :  op.  cit. 
M.  O.  S.  10 


146  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

their  lives  and  thoughts  is  immune  from  his  well-meant 
interference,  is  in  his  way  more  antagonistic  to  spiritual 
growth  than  is  the  moral  jelly-fish  whose  influence  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  exist,  except  in  the  negative  form  deter- 
mined by  the  contempt,  more  or  less  tinged  with  kindly 
tolerance,  with  which  his  pupils  regard  him.  The  truly 
great  disciplinarian  is  he  who,  being  strong,  yet  restrains 
his  strength ;  who  has  learnt  when  not  to  interfere ;  who 
has  a  profound  faith  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  a  powerful 
though  indirect  influence,  and  very  little  faith  in  the  worth 
of  continuous  direction  ;  who  reigns  as  much,  and  governs 
as  little,  as  possible.  With  such  a  head,  supported  by  like- 
minded  colleagues,  the  discipline  of  a  school  becomes  a  real 
unified  power  making  persistently  and  consistently  for  a 
clearly  conceived  and  noble  aim,  imposing  no  fetters  on  the 
true  freedom  of  the  scholars,  but  helping  them  to  become, 
slowly  yet  surely  and  continuously,  independent  of  its 
support. 

Not  only  in  the  school  itself  is  the  power  of  such  a 
discipline  operative.  It  is  felt  in  that  freer  community  life 
of  games,  excursions,  and  school  societies  which  is,  happily, 
being  gradually  more  widely  recognised  as  essential  to  a 
cjood  school.  Further  than  this  :  it  abides  with  the  child 
as  a  directing  and  restraining  influence  when  he  is  away 
from  the  school  altogether ;  and  even  after  he  has  ceased 
to  be  a  pupil  it  has  not  only  modified  his  personality  by 
forming  habitudes,  but  as  a  grateful  memory  and  a  con- 
tinuous affection  it  still  helps  him  on  his  way. 

The  teacher  is,  however,  not  the  only  formative  influence 
in  the  school  tone.     Every  pupil  contributes 
?(?-e^ld1         bis  share,    sometimes    imperceptible,    some- 
times very  obvious  and  considerable.  Common 
opinion  influences  him,  but  he  also  influences  it.     How 
could  it  be  otherwise  when  at  any  given  time  the  school 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  147 

tone  is  actualised  in  the  thoughts,  feelings,  and  opinions  of 
the  scholars  ?  Evidently,  the  degree  to  which  the  common 
tone  is  modified  by  any  one  individual  depends  <>n  the 
relation  between  its  strength  and  (hat  of  his  personality. 

The  tradition  of  an  old  established  boarding  school,  espe- 
cially when  the  pupils  remain  till  they  are  on  the  verge  of 
manhood,  is  comparatively  permanent,  though  it  is  always 
yielding  more  or  less  to  strong  personalities  especially  when 
these  are  heroes  in  the  school  sports.  The  younger  the 
pupils,  and  the  shorter  their  general  stay  at  the  school,  the 
more  easily  does  the  tone  change  under  the  influence  of  a 
popular  and  strong-willed  pupil.  And,  of  course,  the 
smaller  the  school,  the  more  liable  it  is  to  such  changes. 
Schools  are,  as  it  were,  little  States,  with  a  very  large  demo- 
cratic element,  and,  as  Plato  and  Aristotle  long  ago  pointed 
out,  small  democracies  are  very  apt  to  be  transmuted  into 
tyrannies.  So  a  strong  personality  among  the  pupils  may 
be  a  serious  danger  if  his  influence  be  antagonistic  to  that 
of  the  master ;  for  the  rest  of  the  scholars  may  follow 
him  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  the  teacher's  discipline  be 
negated.  There  is  still  much  truth  in  Crabbe's  pic- 
ture of 

"  the  Tyrant-Boy,  whose  sway 
All  hearts  acknowledge  ;  him  the  crowds  obey  : 
At  his  command  they  break  through  every  rule  ; 
Whoever  governs,  he  controls  the  school  : 
'Tis  not  the  distant  Emperor  moves  their  fear, 
But  the  proud  Viceroy  who  is  ever  near. 
Verres  could  do  that  mischief  in  a  day, 
For  which  not  Rome,  in  all  its  power,  could  pay  ; 
And  these  boy-tyrants  will  their  slaves  distress, 
And  do  the  wrongs  no  master  can  redress  : 
The  mind  they  load  with  fear  ;  it  feels  disdain 
For  its  own  baseness  ;  yet  it  tries  in  vain 
To  shake  th'  admitted  power  ; — the  coward  comes  again  ; 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

Tis  more  than  present  pain  these  tyrants  -ive, 
Long  as  we've  life  some  strong  impressions  live  ; 
And  these  young  ruffians  in  the  soul  will  sow 
Seeds  of  all  vices  that  on  weakness  grow."  ! 

The  task  of  discipline  is,  therefore,  different  according  to 
the  character  of  the  group  on  which  and  through  which  it 
has  to  work.  A  fewT  children  of  strong  initiative  who  have 
been  Avell  trained,  at  home  render  the  task  easv.  Similar 
children  from  bad  homes  make  it  very  difficult.  A  sudden 
influx  of  pupils  of  different  social  status  from  the  rest  of  a 
class  and  with  a  different  kind  of  tone  of  their  own  brought 
from  a  different  type  of  school  and  expressing  a  different 
estimate  of  school  life,  may  entirely  alter  the  problem  of 
discipline  for  the  class  teacher  and  modify  it  for  the  whole 
school. 

Thus  it  is  seen  that  not  only  does  the  school  community 
act  on  the  individual  and  modify  him,  but  he  also  reacts 
on  it  and  modifies  it.  There  is  continual  interchange  of 
influence.  The  tone  of  a  school  or  of  a  class  is  not  a 
constant  quantity.  We  often  speak  of  it  as  an  atmosphere, 
but  it  is  not  nearly  as  stable  in  its  composition  as  is  the 
physical  atmosphere.  Of  course,  the  individual  is  the  out- 
come of  his  innate  tendencies  and  temperament  modified 
by  the  influences  amid  which  his  life  has  been  passed,  and 
is  being  p>assed.  So  it  is  important  that  the  teacher  should 
so  act  on  individuals  that  he  may  add  to  the  moulding 
force  of  a  good  general  tone.  Especially  must  he  watch 
new-comers,  so  that  he  may  seize  every  opportunity  to 
secure  their  active  acceptance  and  hearty  support  of  the 
established  healthy  way  of  looking  at  things.  Thus  he  will 
do  what  in  him  lies  to  secure  the  permanence  of  the  tone 
he  values. 

1   The  Buroii'/h,  Letter  24. 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  1  l!» 

Even   when  the   teacher's    discipline    works    indirectly 
through  the  general  tone,  it  acts  on  Lndivi- 
Differences  duals.     In  no  other  way  can  it  act,  for  dis- 

Individuals.  cipline  is  influence  on  will,  and  will  is  of  the 
essence  of  personality.  But  when  the  teacher 
brings  his  influence  to  bear  directly  on  individuals— and 
this  is  no  unimportant  part  of  his  functions — the  utmosi 
tact  and  sympathetic  insight  into  disposition  and  character 
are  needed.  For  children  vary  very  much,  and  the  teacher 
must  deal  with  each  after  his  kind.  Plato  called  oratnrv 
"the  art  of  enchanting  the  soul,"  and  surely  that  is  exactly 
tlic  task  the  educator  has  to  set  himself  to  accomplish. 
So  we  may  apply  to  him  Plato's  deduction  :  "  Therefore, 
he  who  would  be  an  orator  has  to  learn  the  differences  of 
human  souls — thev  are  so  many  and  of  such  a  nature,  and 
from  them  come  the  differences  between  man  and  man  .  .  . 
such  and  such  persons  are  affected  by  this  or  that  kind  of 
speech  in  this  or  that  way.  .  .  .  He  who  knows  all  this, 
and  knows  also  when  he  should  speak  and  when  he  should 
refrain  .  .  .  when,  I  say.  he  knows  the  times  and  seasons 
of  all  these  things,  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  is  a  perfecl 
master  of  his  art."1 

An  examination  of  such  differences  would  take  us  far 
into  the  domain  of  psychology,  and  even  so  could  never 
approach  completeness.  Much  as  we  hear  of  "  the  average 
child'3  he  really  does  not  exist.  No  child  is  an  average, 
after  all.  Each  one  differs,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
from  every  other  who  has  ever  been  born,  or  ever  will  be 
born,  into  the  world.  The  teacher's  study  must  be  essen- 
tially a  study  of  individuals,  justas  the  physician  has  to 
study  each  separate  case  before  he  can  treat  it.  A  mere 
acquaintance  with  the  nature  of  the  disease  is  not  enough  fol- 
ium. Far  less  is  it  sufficient  for  the  educator,  who  has  to 
1  Phaedru*,  271-272  (Jowett's  Translation). 


150  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

try  to  keep  young  souls  in  health  as  well  as  to  seek  to  apply 
the  appropriate  cure  to  the  disease  of  siu.  Still,  these 
human  problems  do  group  themselves  more  or  less  round 
types,  and  a  brief  glance  at  the  most  marked  of  these  may 
not  be  devoid  of  value,  so  long  as  it  be  remembered  that 
they  are  only  types  and  abstractions. 

Differences  show  themselves,  of  course,  in  many  ways, 
but  those  of  most  importance  from  the  point  .of  view  of 
discipline  are  probably  of  three  chief  kinds : 

The  first  is  the  distinction  between  children  of  strong 
social  tendencies,  who  readily  identify  themselves  with  the 
common  life  and  opinion,  and  find  their  chief  pleasure  in 
social  activities,  and  children  who  are  inclined  to  stand  aloof 
from  their  fellows,  who  make  few  friends,  and  consequently 
have  little  influence.  The  former  of  these  do  not  aspire  to 
be  innovators ;  the  latter  have  not  the  power. 

The  second  is  that  between  children  of  strong  initiative, 
full  of  restless  life,  and  always  seeking  a  new  vent  for  their 
energies,  and  children  of  a  more  passive  and  imitative 
nature,  as  truly  born  to  be  followers  as  the  others  are  to 
be  leaders. 

The  third  is  that  between  children  of  good  moral  tone,  and 
children  who,  from  innate  deficiencies  or  evil  training  or 
both,  have  little  or  no  moral  sense.  Either  of  these  may 
be  among  the  leader  class,  and  the  teacher's  most  difficult 
task  is  when  a  leader  is  also  a  centre  of  moral  contagion. 
Duty  to  the  school  may  demand  expulsion,  just  as  am- 
putation may  be  the  only  way  of  dealing  with  a  gangrened 
limb.  But  that  is,  of  course,  an  acknowledgment  that  in 
this  case  discipline  has  failed.  Moreover,  however  neces- 
sary it  may  be,  expulsion  is  not  always  practicable;  for, 
most  unwisely,  this  power  is  too  often  taken  out  of  the 
Head-master's  hands. 

On  consideration  of  these  broad  distinctions  it  would 


THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY.  151 

seem  that  the  teacher  should  direct  his  energies  especially 
to  winning  over  those  meant  by  nature  to  be  leaders.  If 
they  ai*e  good  as  well  as  strong  and  energetic  this  will  l>*> 
comparatively  easy,  if  the  teacher  be  not  tactless  ;  for  such 
pupils  are  already  predisposed  to  join  all  the  foi*ces  in  the 
school  which  make  for  righteousness.  When  a  boy  is 
both  evil  and  strong  the  teacher  should  still  remember 
that  he  is  young  and  not  wholly  corrupt.  So  he  should 
seek  diligently  for  the  one  fertile  spot,  in  which  he  may  sow 
the  o-ood  seed,  and  having  sown  it  be  very  watchful  and 
not  shrink  from  any  form  of  influence  or  government  that 
will  prevent  the  evil  weeds  from  choking  the  tender  plant 
of  right  purpose. 

For  a  sood  school  does  not  mean  one  in  which  offences  are 
absent.     The  attempt  to  secure  this  always 

iscip  me  an      ]ea(js  to  s0  minute  a  supervision  of  conduct 
Supervision.  r 

that   no  scope  is    given   for  the   growth   of 

personal  initiative.     Even  so,  the  thoughts  of  the  heart 

cannot  be  controlled,   and  there   is  grave  danger   of   the 

formation  of   the  double    personality  of   which   we    have 

already    spoken,1    and    that    without    true    strength    of 

character. 

Nor  would  a  state  of  entire  absence  of  temptation  be 

desirable    even    were    it    attainable.      Strength    develops 

through  conflict,  and  virtue  cannot  grow  if  there  be  nothing 

to  resist.     So  long  as  the  general  school  opinion  is  healthy 

the  teacher  need  not  be  depressed  because  faults  are  still 

committed.     And  of  course  one  should  not  desire  that  a 

precocious  prudence  should   keep   children    out   of   every 

possible  scrape.     It  is  the  general  habitude  and  the  broad 

trend  of  will  that  the  school  wishes  to  train  ;  and,  especially 

with  such  imperfect  beings  as  children,  the  free  exercise  of 

will   must   sometimes   lead   to    unfortunate   results,   both 

1  See  pp.  19-20. 


152  THE    SCHOOL    COMMUNITY. 

from  mistakes  as  to  the  worth  of  the  end  sought  and  from 
insufficient  knowledge  and  insight  to  see  the  means  which 
will  lead  to  its  attainment.  Nor  should  the  claims  of  indi- 
viduality be  forgotten.  The  attempt  to  watch  over  every 
act  of  every  child  so  as  to  exclude  all  occasion  of  evil 
necessarily  leads  to  the  cultivation  of  a  uniformity  of 
mediocrity.  If  we  escape  vice,  with  at  least  equal  certainty 
we  escape  virtue. 

The  Head- teacher's  influence,  then,  should  be  felt 
throughout  the  school  and  should  be  brought 
to  bear  in  special  modes  on  individual  pupils 
as  occasion  may  demand,  but  it  should  be  felt  most  con- 
tinuously as  re-incarnated  in  the  pupils  themselves.  That 
this  may  be  secured  he  must  be  seconded  loyally  by  his 
colleagues,  and  the  discipline  will  be  all  the  more  effective 
if  it  be  reinforced  by  the  influence  of  the  parents.  But 
the  most  fundamental  conditions  of  all  are  that  it  should 
be  directed  by  the  great  principles  of  morality  ;  regulated 
by  the  essential  laws  of  school  life  which  embody  those 
principles  in  the  special  form  adapted  to  the  specific  pur- 
pose for  which  the  school  exists ;  and  exercised  with 
justice,  with  sympathy,  and  with  tact,  by  a  teacher  whose 
own  personality  both  attracts  and  inspires  the  young  souls 
committed  to  his  care. 


CHAPTEK   VII. 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

1.  In  the  first  chapter  we  considered  the  general  nature 

of  morn]  training  and,  in  those  which  fol- 
Relation  lowed,  the  characteristics  of  the  product  it 

between  aims    at    securing.       We    then    turned    our 

Government       attention  to  the  nature  of  the  school   as  an 
and  Influence,    organized  commuuity  the  essential  function 

of  which  is  the  education  of  its  pupils,  that 
is  the  tit  ting'  of  them  for  their  future  life  by  the  regulation 
of  their  present  life.  To  be  effective  such  regulation  must 
affect  the  whole  nature  of  the  child,  not  only  his  intellect 
through  teaching  but  also  his  bodily  conduct,  his  feelings 
and  his  will.  Of  these  the  training  of  the  will  is  fundamental 
and  should  permeate  the  whole  of  the  life  and  work  of  the 
school.  But  just  because  it  should  do  this  it  should  not, 
usually,  lie  made  the  ostensible  object  sought.  Will  can- 
not be  trained  abstractly :  it  can  only  be  trained  where  it 
is  found,  that  is,  in  the  actual  occupations  and  interests 
of  life. 

All  training  of  the  will  comes  under  the  general  term 

Discipline.  But  in  so  far  as  the  will  is 
Government?1      m0Yea   the   conduct   is   determined.     Hence 

the  outward  sign  of  discipline  is  found  in 
conduct.  But  conduct  may  also  be  regulated  directly  by 
hi  ws  and  commands  which  as  a  last  resort  may  be  enforced 

1 53 


\ 


\ 


154  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

by  penalties  for  disobedience.  Such  regulation  when  it 
stands  alone  is  educationally  disastrous  as  it  cultivates 
the  organized  hypocrisy  of  acting  in  one  way  under  com- 
pulsion while  the  will  and  desires  point  in  an  opposed 
direction.1 

Grovernuient,  or  direct  regulation  of  outward  conduct, 
therefore,  does  not  coincide  with  discipline.  Even  in  the 
best  schools  there  is  need,  at  times,  to  enforce  the  un- 
willing observance  of  law.  But  that  should  always  be 
exceptional,  and  the  better  the  school  the  more  exceptional 
it  will  be.  In  a  good  school  government  is,  as  a  rule,  an 
instrument  of  discipline.  In  other  words,  laws  and  com- 
mands still  impose  certain  lines  of  conduct  and  behaviour, 
and  so  far  we  have  government.  But  the  laws  and  com- 
mands are  willingly  accepted  by  the  pupils,  so  through 
them  the  authority  of  the  school  determines  the  will,  and 
so  far  we  have  discipline.  Discipline  and  government, 
therefore,  are  not  of  necessity  opposed  nor  are  they  in  any 
way  incompatible.  They  overlap  ;  and  the  more  efficient 
the  school  as  a  place  of  education  the  less  of  government  is 
there  which  is  outside  the  scope  of  discipline. 

Even  when  this  is  thoroughly  secured,  however,  there  is 
not  coincidence  between  the  two.  All  school  government 
may  be  merged  in  discipline  :  that  is  the  ideal  at  which  to 
aim.  But  all  discipline  is  never  confined  to  government. - 
Discipline  is  influence  on  the  will  which  determines  con- 
duct in  cases  in  which  no  definite  law  or  command  is 
operative ;  it  determines  it  in  spheres  of  life  outside  the 
whole  range  of  school  government.  Government  is  but  an 
occasional  determinant  of  conduct,  for  only  at  times  is 
there  a  definite  consciousness  of  law  or  command  and  then 
generally    when    a   temptation   to    break    the   one   or    to 

1  Cf.  pp.  19-20.  ?  Cf.  pp.  148-146. 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  155 

infringe  the  other  is  felt.  And  without  a  definite  and 
explicit  consciousness  of  law  or  command  there  is  no 
direct  regulation  of  conduct  by  government.  In  so  far  as 
the  conduct  is  determined  by  law  without  any  explicit 
consciousness  of  that  determination,  there  is  indeed 
government  but  it  is  acting  as  an  agent  of  discipline  ; 
the  real  power  is  discipline. 

On  the  other  hand  discipline    does   not  coincide    with 

influence.  Every  person  is  influenced  in  all 
Discipline  and    kindg  of  (      thoge  with  whom    he   ig 

Influence.  J        J 

brought  into  contact,  by  his  circumstances, 

by  occurrences  in  the  physical  world.  In  short,  anything 
which  enters  into  his  experience  may  influence  his  will 
by  moulding  his  purposes  and  stimulating  or  deadening 
certain  forms  of  desire,  and  so  mav  determine  his  con- 
duct.  A  sudden  change  of  fortune — an  access  of  wealth 
or  a  descent  into  poverty — the  loss  of  a  parent  or  the 
acquisition  of  a  wife,  may,  for  example,  alter  in  many 
ways  not  onlv  a  man's  material  mode  of  life  but  the 
objects  of  his  pursuit  and  the  aims  of  his  endeavour. 
So  a  child's  will  is  influenced  by  all  his  surroundings. 
They  give  him  the  range  within  which  he  must  find  the 
objects  on  which  he  sets  his  desires  and  they  limit  the 
scope  of  his  activities.  Influence  is  a  moulding  of  life  ;  and 
such  moulding  may  be  conscious  and  purposive,  uncon- 
scious and  unintentional,  and  even  merely  physical.  It  is 
only  the  first  of  these  which  is  educative ;  for  education 
is  training,  or  the  organization  of  effort  directed  towards 
a  predetermined  end.  This  educative  influence,  however 
it  mav  be  exercised,  Avhatever  form  it  mav  take,  is 
discipline. 

Discipline,  therefore,  is  a  part  of  influence  but  not  the 
whole  of  it  ;  just  as  government  is  a  part  of  discipline  but 
not  the  whole  of  it.     There  will  certainly  be  influence,  and 


/ 


156  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

most  probably  there  will  be  government,  which  lie  outside 
the  range  of  discipline.  Over  both  of  these  the  educator 
should  keep  a  watchful  eye.  The  latter  is  largely  within 
his  control  ;  it  mainly  rests  with   him  to  decide  how  far 

a/ 

government  shall  extend.  The  former  is  much  less  within 
his  power  to  determine.  But  the  need  for  parents  and 
teachers  to  be  on  guard  against  influences  adverse  to  their 
training  becoming  operative  in  the  life  of  any  under  their 
care  is  obvious.  At  times  they  can  remove  such  influences 
by  their  own  action,  but  more  often  they  have  to  meet 
them  by  a  stronger  and  more  direct  exercise  of  their  own 
discipline.1 

Discipline  is,  therefore,  the  directive  factor  of  the  educa- 
tive process.  It  is  to  the  soul  what  logic  or  geometry  is 
to  the  mind,  or  gymnastic  2  to  the  bodv  :  it  aims  at  bracing 

1  The  relations  of  government,  discipline  and  influence  may  be 
represented  diagrammatic-ally — 


/ 
/ 
/ 
/ 
/ 

I  G 

\ 
\ 
\ 
\ 
\ 


We  can  state  the  relations  implied  by  this  diagram  in  the  follow- 
ing propositions  : 

Hi  Some  G  is  not  D  i.e.,  Some  government  is  not  disciplinary. 

(•_!)  Some  G  is  D  =  i.e.,  Some  government  is  disciplinary. 

Some  I)  is  G  <'.«.,  Some  discipline  is  exercised  through  government. 

(3)  All  D  is  I  =  i.e.,  All  discipline  is  influence. 
Some  1  is  l>  /...,  Some  influence  is  disciplinary. 

(4)  Some  I  is  not  I)  /...,  Some  influences  are  not  disciplinary. 

-  That  is,  in  the  wider  Greek  sense  of   '  physical  culture,'  not  in 
the  narrower  modern  use  of  '  gymnastics. ' 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  K>7 

the  will.  But  it  has  beer  seen  that  self-direction  grows 
out  of  external  direction;  self-discipline  ou1  of  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  bome  and  the  school.  External  discipline  is 
good  only  when  it  does  lead  bo  the  development  of  self- 
coni  rol. 

•J.  J  > i it    discipline    though    it    works    on    individuals    is 

applied  to  masses.  In  this  characteristic 
Aims  of  School  lurkg  the  danger  of  resting  satisfied  with 
Government :  ... 

the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  discipline 

even  when  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace,  which  alone 
makes  for  the  formation  of  character,  is  absent.  For 
certainly  government  is  necessary  apart  from  its  value  as 
an  instrument  of  discipline.  It  is  needed  in  every  com- 
munity for  the  maintenance  of  law  and  order;  and  law 
and  order  are  necessary  for  the  comfort  and  convenience 
of  the  individual  members  of  the  body  and  for  the  success 
of  its  corporate  work. 

External  control  becomes  gradually  less  necessary  in 
proportion  as  the  power  of  self-control  increases,  and  it  is 
for  this  reason  that  in  schools,  prisons,  or  barracks — com- 
munities of  immature,  perverted,  or  ill-educated  persons- 
external  control  seems  to  play  so  large  a  part.  And,  as 
we  have  seen,  such  control  may  be  something  much  more 
valuable  than  appears  on  the  surface:  it  may  be  welcomed 
bv  the  will.  To  the  extent  to  which  this  is  so  the  com- 
munity  is  educative.  When  the  Avill  was  at  first  not  onlv 
not  acquiescent  but  absolutely  antagonistic  to  the  external 
control,  then  to  the  extent  to  which  it  is  led  to  accept  the 
control,  the  influence  of  the  community  is  not  onlv  forma- 
tive but  reformative.  This  should  lie  an  essential  aim 
even  of  prison  government;  needless  to  say  it  must  be  the 
aim  of  the  school  in  its  dealings  with  a  refractory  pupil. 
But  the  general  process  is  the  same  with  the  individual 
who  starts  with  direct  opposition  and  with  him  who  only 


\ 


158  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

begins  with  neutrality  ;  it  differs  in  duration  and  difficulty 
but  in  every  case  it  aims  at  inducing  the  child  to  accept 
the  law  of  duty.1 

The  aims  of  school  government,  then,  may  be  briefly 
stated : 

First,  its  aim  is  to  secure  in  the  class-room  such  con- 
ditions as  will  not  interrupt  the  processes  of 

fn0TeeanchTng  ;      ^hing  and  learning. 

There  is  no  fear  that  teachers  will  ever  lose 
sight  of  this  aim.  At  the  present  time  most  of  the  failure 
and  most  of  the  ineffectiveness  of  our  schools  may  be  traced 
to  the  fact  that  masters  and  buys  have  only  this  view  of 
school  government.  In  broad,  general  terms  teachers  will 
admit  the  wider  aims,  but  it  is  an  academic  admission 
rather  than  a  vital  belief.  Their  actual  practice  is  cramped 
and  narrow,  boys  are  punished  and  accept  punishment  not 
with  a  view  to  their  moral  improvement,  but  because  of 
incidental  annoyances  to  the  teacher  for  which  they  are 
responsible.  To  check  such  annoyances  is,  of  course,  not 
unreasonable,  provided  that  the  deeper  purposes  be  con- 
tinually borne  in  mind.  This  wider  outlook  characterizes 
the  life  and  work  of  the  best  schoolmasters,  men  with  wide 
and  lofty  aims  doing  petty  tasks  because  they  further  those 
aims.  The  bad  schoolmaster  may  be  simply  the  man  who 
does  the  petty  tasks  but  lacks  the  lofty  aim. 

But  government  has  a  further  function  of  training  the 

pupils  in  habits  useful  for  their  own  sake 
of  dibits1-         apart  from  their  disciplinary  value.     Habits 

of  punctuality,  industry,  attention,  mental 
alertness,  tidiness,  cleanliness,  and  decorous  behaviour, 
may  all  be  the  outcome  of  consistently  administered  govern- 
ment. But  unless  the  government  be  disciplinary  the  form- 
ation of  the  corresponding  habitudes  will  be  impossible. 

1  Cf.  Ch.  III. 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  159 

Thirdly,  it  is  of  value  as  a  training  of  character.     In  the 

pupil,  submission  to  external  control  aims 
Training  of  at  cultivating  ready  obedience  to  command 
Characters-      an^   recognition  of   his   own    position    as   a 

subordinate  member  of  an  organized  com- 
munity. This  is  to  say  no  more  than  thai  discipline 
through  government  teaches  discipline. 

And  this  consideration  brings  us  to  a  fourth  possible  aim 

of  disciplinary  government.  It  is  in  matters 
Training  of  connected  with  discipline  that  the  relation 
Characters         between  master  and  boy  is  most  intimate  and 

most  personal.  In  discussing  such  matters 
the  master  is  compelled  to  define  most  clearly  the  relation 
between  himself  and  the  boy,  and  the  relation  of  both  to  the 
community.  It  is  when  such  relations  are  defined  that  they 
begin  to  have  a  practical  effect  on  conduct,  and  discipline 
through  government  may  thus  be  seen  to  have  an  aim 
connected  not  with  the  boys'  conduct  only  but  with  the 
masters'  as  well.  The  teachers  of  a  well  disciplined  school 
must  benefit  by  the  rule  under  which  they  live  and  which 
they  help  to  maintain.  The  maxim  that  we  learn  by 
teaching  is  true  no  less  of  the  lessons  of  life  and  conduct 
than  it  is  of  the  purely  intellectual  knowledge,  of  the  class- 
room or  the  lecture-theatre. 

3.  Having  discussed  from  the  practical  standpoint  the 

purpose  of  disciplinary   government,  let  us 

Disciplinary       proceed  similarly  to  examine  the  manner  in 
Government.  ,  .  ,    .,   .  \      ..       _  .  _ 

which  it  is  exercised,     hi  very  teacher  01  any 

It  depends  on  experience  will  have  probably  his  own  ideals 
e  eac  er,  Q£  government  for  its  own  sake,  and  so  it  is 
not  unlikely  that  there  will  be  a  particular  'atmosphere' 
of  conduct  in  which  each  teacher  will  best  be  able  to  do 
his  work.  With  some  it  may  be  a  genial  spirit  of  com- 
radeship, with  others  an  attitude  of  tense  intellectuality, 


160  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

with  others  a  rigid  deportment  of  body.  Some  teachers 
appear  to  do  excellent  work  in  conditions  that  would  till 
the  martinet  with  horror  and  disgust,  while  there  are 
others  who  can  teach  only  in  absolute  silence;  the  scraping 
of  a  foot  or  the  clatter  of  a  pencil  "  gets  on  their  nerves  ': 
and  destroys  alike  the  harmony  of  the  class-room  and  the 
efficiency  of  the  work. 

Boys  also  have  their  own  standards  of  order.  There  is 
a  limit  at  each  end  of  the  scale  beyond  which 
Pupils  ^  8  ^ie  k0^  fee^s  that  it  is  preposterous  to  go. 
With  girls  the  tolerable  minimum  and  the 
intolerable  maximum  are  both  higher,  but  they  do  exist, 
and  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  nothing  is  gained  and 
much  is  lost  by  attempting  to  pass  either  extreme. 

These  cautions  are  especially  needed  in  those  cases  where 
men  teach  girls,  and  still  more  where  women  teach  boys 
who  are  beyond  the  years  of  infancy. 

Speaking  quite  generally,  boys  are  more  reasonable  and 
girls  more  obedient,  and  it  follows  that  a  girl  will  be 
readily  shocked  at  an  absence  of  restraint  which  a  boy  will 
take  for  granted  as  a  natural  thing.  If  a  master  is  teach- 
ing a  class  of  girls  he  is  naturally  inclined  to  adopt  a 
standard  of  order  suited  to  boys,  and  it  is  not  uncommon 
in  such  cases  for  the  girls  to  take  advantage  of  the  circum- 
stances to  do  something  which  they,  with  one  accord, 
would  recognise  as  '  naughty  '  but  which  the  teacher  does 
not  check  because  he  takes  a  different  view.  But  whether 
the  '  naughty  '  act — such,  for  example,  as  opening  a  desk 
without  express  permission  though  it  has  never  been  ex- 
pressly forbidden — be  really  one  which  the  teacher  regards 
as  an  offence  or  not,  the  fact  that  the  class  considers  it 
to  be  so  makes  it  undesirable  to  permit  it.  The  teacher 
must,  therefore,  either  modify  his  standard  to  suit  the 
particularly    tender   conscience   of   the   class    with    which 


EXERCISE    OP    DISCIPLINE.  161 

he  has  to  deal,  or  else  modify  the  girls'  standard  of  judging 
such  behaviour.  If  he  neglect  to  do  so  the  children  do 
with  impunity  what  is  wrong  for  them,  because  they  believe 
it  to  be  wrong,  and  his  government  loses,  at  once,  its  dis- 
ciplinary value. 

Similarly,  where  women  teach  boys  allowance  should  be 
made  for  the  boys'  greater  abhorrence  of  detailed  control. 
If  a  child  wishes  to  refer  to  a  book  reasonably  or  to  replace 
an  old  nib  with  a  new  one,  the  boy  is  apt  to  resent  the 
petty  restraint  of  being  obliged  to  ask  permission,  but  the 
girl  usually  depends  on  such  permission  at  all  times.  In 
short,  the  boy  does  it,  the  girl  asks  if  she  may  do  it. 

There  is  also  a  necessary  variation  of  the  standard  and 
methods  of  order  which  arises  from  the  consideration  of 
the  age  of  the  pupils.  Certain  forms  of  fidgeting  which 
must  be  tolerated  in  the  infant  school  or  kindergarten 
should  be  checked  gradually  in  the  preparatory  or  in  the 
elementary  school  and  excluded  altogether  in  the  higher 
standards  or  in  the  secondary  school.  And,  in  the  secon- 
dary school,  methods  effective  in  lower  forms  or  in  the 
Upper  Sixth  would  often  be  perfectly  inapplicable  to  the 
requirements  of  the  elderly  people  of  small  ability  who 
become  the  sediment  of  the  Fourth  Form  or  are  drafted 
bodily  into  a  '  Shell '  or  '  Eemove.' 

The  social  position  of  the  pupils  is  another  factor  de- 
termining the  standard  of  order.  The  easiest  classes  to 
handle,  in  spite  of  their  large  size,  are  probably  the  fifth 
and  sixth  standards  of  elementary  schools  in  a  good 
district  and  the  classes  in  municipal  secondary  schools. 
Next  in  difficulty  to  these  are  the  classes  in  the  best  type 
of  preparatory  school,  then  the  budding  hooligans  of  a 
slum  school,  and  finally,  for  a  new  master,  the  middle 
forms  of  a  good  public  school.  Probably  no  difficulties 
of  government  are  comparable  to  those  of  a  new  master 

M.  D.  S.  11 


162  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

who  begins  his  professional  career  in  the  '  Shell '  of  a  large 

Public  School. 

Having  regard,  then,  to  the  manifold  difficulties  arising 

from  these  varying  factors  in  the  work,  what 

The  Teacher's    ac"[vice  can  be  given,  or  what  rules  laid  down, 

Standard  of         „         ,  . ,    °         „   , ,  , 

Order.  *or  the  guidance  01  those  who  are  entering 

the  profession  ? 

We  have  seen  that  the  nature  of  the  order  ultimately 
secured  depends  on  the  master  himself,  and  on  the  age,  the 
sex,  and  the  social  position,  of  the  pupils.  It  may,  there- 
fore, be  recommended  that  the  teacher  who  is  entering  the 
profession,  or  who  is  beginning  work  in  a  new  school, 
should  first  consider  the  particular  conditions  of  these 
external  influences  as  they  obtain  in  the  school  to  which 
he  is  going,  that  he  should  interpret  them  by  the  light  of  his 
own  conception  of  discipline,  and  so  should  fix  a  standard 
of  order  for  the  particular  class  he  is  about  to  teach. 

In  the  formation  of  this  standard  he  may  be  guided  by 
his  own  experience,  but  it  must  be  in  harmony  with  the 
general  standard  of  the  school.  He  may  be  fortunate 
enough  to  remember  a  class  in  which  he  was  well  and 
happily  governed  as  a  boy  ;  or  it  may  be  that  he  can  only 
construct  his  standard  as  a  contrast  to  that  of  those  classes 
wherein  he  was  too  rigidly  governed  or  governed  not  at  all. 
But  even  if  he  can  only  fix  his  standard  as  an  imaginary 
construction  of  his  own,  each  teacher  should  be  able  to 
enter  the  school  with  some  picture  in  his  mind  of  the 
condition  of  affairs  that  he  wishes  to  be  prevalent  in  his 
class-room.  As  he  grows  in  experience  and  power  he  may 
probably  find  that  his  standard  is  too  strict  or  too  lax.  In 
either  case  he  should  quietly  and  unostentatiously  modify 
it,  being  careful  that  no  sudden  change  of  standard  suggest 
to  his  class  that  its  new  teacher  is  a  person  of  vacillating 
will  or  of  uncertain  temper. 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  163 

It  is,  however,  wise  for  a  beginner  t<>  aim  al  Becnring  a 
quality  of  government  somewhat  more  rigid  at  first  than 
that  which  he  conceives  to  be  the  most  suitable  for  per- 
manent use.  His  boys  do  not  yet  know  and  trust  him,  nor 
he  them,  in  a  wav  that  will  define  their  future  relations, 
and  it  will  be  better  for  both  the  teacher  aud  the  cla^s  to 
know  that  there  is  a  reserve  of  strength ;  for  the  teacher  to 
know  that  he  is  able  to  tighten  the  rein  if  necessaiv,  and 
for  the  pupils  to  recognise  that  the  liberty  allowed  them 
is  due  to  the  good-will  and  not  to  the  incompetence  of 
their  teacher.  He  will  be  better  advised  if  he  first  get 
the  class  well  in  hand  and  then  allow  greater  liberty,  than 
if  he  realise  too  low  a  standard  of  discipline  and  then  be 
compelled  to  make  demonstrations  of  power  at  irregular 
intervals. 

Although,  as  it  has  been  shown,  the  standard  of  order 

must    depend     on     individual     ideals     and 

Examination      capacity,  yet  it  may  be  a  help  to   the   for- 

of  Extreme 

Cases  :  mation    of    a    reasonable    standard    if    we 

consider  the  effects  of  the  extremes  in  each 
direction. 

The  extreme  of  lax  order  may  be  shortly  dismissed. 
Few  will  be  disposed  to  defend  it,  either  as 
a  training  of  character  or  for  its  effect  on 
teaching.  With  it  no  good  work  is  ever  done  and  its  effect 
on  the  boys  is  obviously  detrimental.  The  only  considera- 
tions that  might  induce  a  beginner  not  lacking  in  strength 
of  will  to  adopt  too  low  a  standard  would  be  those  of 
saving  himself  trouble  and  of  gaining  the  affection  of  his 
boys.  Both  these  considerations  are  mistaken.  The 
troubles  arising  from  careless  control  are  far  greater  and 
far  more  serious  than  is  the  unconscious  effort  expended  in 
maintaining  good  order  or  even  than  the  effort  consciously 
put  forth  to  secure  it.     There  is  no  economy  of  effort  in 


164  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

attempting-  an  impossible  task  ;  it  does  not  save  trouble  to 
try  to  teacli  arithmetic  in  a  bear-garden. 

The  second  consideration  arises  from  a  mistaken  notion 
of  good  nature.  Boys  will  readily  ascribe  to  weakness 
what  may  have  arisen  from  good  nature,  and  they  will 
probably  describe  as  "  a  fool"  the  man  who  aims  by  such 
means  at  securing  that  highest  praise  of  boys,  the  appel- 
lation "  a  decent  chap."  He  may  possibly  obtain  the 
affection  of  his  class  but  it  will  be  an  unprofitable  affection 
without  the  essential  foundation  of  respect.  It  is  often  an 
affection  of  mushroom  growth  and  of  short  life,  and  com- 
pares with  the  liking  for  the  man  who  "  stands  drinks  " 
rather  than  with  the  love,  reverence  and  gratitude  for  the 
man  who  is  able  by  his  personal  influence  to  save  the 
drunkard  from  his  own  weakness.  And  it  should  be 
noted  that  any  such  affection  will  be  in  spite  of  his  weak 
government,  not  by  reason  of  it. 

Further,  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  boys  or  girls 
prefer  even  a  single  lesson  during  which  they  are  ill- 
controlled.  Where  teaching  is  skilful  and  attention  to 
it  is  secured  by  firm  control  time  passes  quickly  and  not 
unpleasantly.  But  if  order  be  absent  there  will  be  little 
attention  given  to  the  matter  in  hand  and  the  pupils  will 
find  means  for  their  own  amusement.  They  readily  follow 
the  line  of  least  resistance  and,  if  sufficient  interest  can 
be  derived  from  listening  to  what  is  being  said,  they  will 
listen,  but  if  not  they  will  rely  upon  their  own  ingenuity  to 
find  occupation  which  will  dispel  the  tedium  of  several 
hours'  confinement  to  a  class-room,  and  occupations  devised 
with  this  intent  are  apt  to  be  disturbing  and  disorderly. 

The  extreme  of  rigid  government  is  less  obviously  bad, 

but  it  is  bad  nevertheless.     Boys  are  punished 

by  reproof,  impositions,  detention,  or  caning, 

for  mere  involuntary  movements  or  changes  of  position 


EXERCISE    OP    DISCIPLINE.  165 

which  are  by  no  means  symptomatic  of  idleness  or  wander- 
ing attention.  The  master  who  lias  his  class  in  such 
control  is  usually  proud  of  his  "discipline,"  as  he  fondly 
calls  it,  and  natters  himself  that  in  his  class-room  at  least 
there  is  strict  attention  to  business  from  beginning  to  end 
of  school. 

Such  a  man  probably  has  little  real  sympathy  with  boys, 
and  therefore  does  not  realise,  or  if  he  realises  does  not 
care,  that  the  boys  are  thoroughly  uncomfortable  all  day 
and  physically  very  tired  at  the  end  of  it.  He  goes  to 
school  to  work  and  he  expects  the  same  amount  of  work 
from  his  class.  But  it  would  probably  affect  him  pro- 
foundly if  he  could  realise  that  it  is  not  in  such  circum- 
stances that  the  best  work  is  done,  for  attention  is  divided 
between  the  lesson  and  the  maintenance  of  the  required 
immobility ;  that  his  boys,  therefore,  do  not  in  fact  learn 
so  much  nor  work  so  hard  as  the  boys  in  neighbouring 
class-rooms  which  he  would  consider  undisciplined  bear- 
gardens. If  he  imagine  that  a  boy  can  keep  his  attention 
continuously  fixed  for  a  whole  morning  on  lessons,  and 
that  absence  of  movement  signifies  absence  of  wandering 
of  mind,  let  him  examine  his  own  experience  of  listening 
to  an  academic  lecture  or  to  a  long  sermon.  He  may  not 
fidget  much,  but  his  mind  will  wander  to  topics  far  remote 
from  the  subject  of  the  lecture  or  sermon,  unless  the 
matter  be  unusually  interesting  to  him  and  the  form  in 
which  it  is  set  forth  attractive.  He  may  find  himself 
thinking  of  his  last  round  at  golf  or  of  his  engagements  for 
the  afternoon,  or,  if  he  be  married,  of  the  need  for  a  new 
stair-carpet  or  for  children's  boots,  and  he  will  only  bring 
his  attention  back  to  the  subject  of  the  lecture  by  an  effort 
of  will.  Now  when  we  consider  the  greater  length  of  the 
school  day  and  the  greater  immaturity  of  children's  minds, 
the  possibility  of  securing  continuous  undivided  attention 


166  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

for  any  great  length  of  time  is  seen  to  dwindle  to  vanish- 
ing point.  In  the  ordinary  class-room,  where  there  is 
no  undue  restraint,  wandering  attention  can  instantly  be 
observed  and  recalled.  If  a  boy  is  becoming  exceedingly 
weary  of  a  dull  lesson  he  will  be  tempted  to  look  at  the 
clock  or  at  his  watch  to  see  how  much  longer  it  must  be 
endured,  if  he  is  thinking  of  the  passing  motor-car  or  the 
coming  cricket  match  he  will  probably  wish  to  look  out  of 
the  window  at  the  one  or  to  speak  of  the  other  to  his  neigh- 
bour. In  the  well  disciplined  class  the  boy  will  not  be 
restrained  by  fear  from  expressing  either  of  these  desires 
in  action,  and  the  wise  teacher,  while  regretting  that  the 
boy  has  yielded  to  temptation,  may  yet  welcome  the 
symptom  as  an  aid  to  his  diagnosis  and  treatment  of  the 
disease.  If  the  class  shows  signs  of  boredom  by  looking 
at  the  clock,  he  will  realise  that  his  teaching  has  become 
flat  and  unattractive,  and  he  will  either  modify  the 
teaching  or  provide  the  class  with  more  profitable  work 
to  occupy  them ;  if  a  boy  glances  at  the  passing  motor- 
cycle or  is  seen  to  speak  to  his  neighbour,  a  question  or 
two  addressed  to  him  personally  will  recall  his  attention 
to  the  present  work,  and  divert  it  from  the  extraneous 
attraction. 

It  must,  however,  be  clearly  understood  that  it  is  only 
the  symptom  and  not  the  disease  which  the  good  dis- 
ciplinarian will  welcome.  We  are  not,  of  course,  advocat- 
ing the  ridiculous  doctrine,  already  condemned,  that  the 
child's  inclination  or  impulse  is  to  be  the  only  guide  to  his 
conduct.  The  function  of  government,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
to  create  self-discipline,  and  the  boy  must  be  taught  to 
control  his  impulses  and,  by  controlling  them,  to  con- 
centrate his  attention.  The  diseases  to  be  cured  are  self- 
indulgence  and  ill-manners,  and  the  judicious  governor 
will  use  his  influence,  and  support  it  either  by  reproof  or 


EXEKCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  167 

by  punishment  as  expressions  of  his  displeasure,  to  train  the 
child's  will  in  the  directions  of  concentration  of  thought 
and  of  self-restraint.  But  the  wise  teacher  will  not  permit 
an  atmosphere  of  terror  in  his  class-room  winch  would 
check  the  symptom  without  curing,  or  even  while  aggra- 
vating, the  complaint. 

In  the  class  of  the  martinet  none  of  these  symptoms 
are  visible.  The  boy  who  is  bored  does  not  risk  punish- 
ment by  looking  at  the  clock,  but  sits  with  "eyes  front" 
and  the  question  recurring  in  his  mind  "  When  is  this 
blather  going  to  stop  ?  '  The  other,  interested  in  motor- 
cycles, dare  not  satisfy  his  curiosity  by  a  glance,  but, 
nevertheless,  hears  the  sound  and  ponders  for  several 
minutes  on  the  important  question  whether  it  proceeded 
from  one  cylinder  or  from  two.  The  third  does  not  gossip, 
but  with  ingenious  secrecy  finds  opportunity  for  writing 
his  question  and  for  passing  it,  by  a  slow  process  involving 
a  dozen  boys,  to  the  class  cricket-captain,  who  replies  in 
writing.  The  martinet  would  be  aghast  if  he  thought 
such  a  thing  could  happen  in  his  form,  but  it  does  happen 
and,  even  if  circumstances  are  favourable  to  the  passing 
of  notes,  wastes  some  ten  minutes  or  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
of  the  "  strict  attention  to  business  "  which  he  believes  to 
be  the  invariable  rule  in  his  class.  Nor  is  this  the  end  of 
the  evil.  The  habit  of  rigid  deportment  tends  also  to  kill 
all  enthusiasm  and  spontaneity  in  work.  Even  if  a  boy  be 
attending  chiefly  to  the  lesson  his  mind  is  harassed  sub- 
consciously by  the  feeling  that  he  must  not  "  let  himself 
go."  He  feels  that  he  may,  in  his  desire  to  answer  a  ques- 
tion or  in  his  interest  in  the  narrative  or  description,  adopt 
some  forbidden  posture  and  be  punished  for  lolling  or  for 
standing  without  permission,  and  so  he  puts  a  restraint  on 
his  bodily  movements  which  reacts  harmfully  on  the  natural 
activity  of  his  mind.     His  desire  for  having  credit  for  the 


168  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

matter  of  liis  work  is  subdued  by  and  subordinated  to  his 
fear  of  being  snubbed  or  punished  for  the  manner  in 
which  he  offers  it. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  ideal  government  lies 
somewhere  between  two  extremes.  Excess  on  the  one  side 
or  on  the  other  may  be  due  in  part  to  a  want  of  balance 
in  the  teacher's  conception  of  the  relation  between  the 
intellectual  and  moral  factors  in  education.  If  he  attach 
too  great  importance  to  the  intellectual  aspect  he  may 
neglect  the  moral  value  of  a  friendly  relation  between  him- 
self and  his  pupils.  Then  he  is  apt  to  defeat  even  his  intel- 
lectual ends  by  erring  on  the  side  of  severity.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  he  look  too  exclusively  on  the  moral  aspect  he  may 
neglect  the  intellectual,  and  defeat  his  moral  aim  by  indul- 
gence instead  of  control,  under  the  mistaken  idea  that  any 
compulsion  may  lessen  his  influence  with  his  pupils. 

But  all  philosophic  consideration  of  the  purpose  of 
disciplinary  government,  and  all  merely 
Relations  academic  discussion  of  what  it  is,  are  of  no 

Discipline.  avail    to    the    schoolmaster   or   the    school- 

mistress who  does  not  know  how  it  is  to  be 
exercised.  It  may  be  well,  therefore,  to  deal  briefly  with 
the  means  by  which  discipline  may  arise  out  of  govern- 
ment and  without  which  it  is  in  a  measure  impossible. 

Discipline  being  the  name  commonly  applied  to  a 
certain  relation,  it  follows  that  each  of  the  related  parties 
must  contribute  something  towards  it.  It  is  a  relation,  in 
one  aspect,  of  the  child  to  the  school-community  ;  and  the 
contributions  in  this  case  are  inflexible  justice  combined 
with  reasonable  liberty  and  proper  material  conditions, 
granted  by  the  school  to  the  child,  and,  on  the  child" s 
part,  recognition  of  his  subordinate  position  in  the  com- 
munity, docility,  willingness  to  work,  and  physical  fitness 
to  profit  by  the  material  conditions. 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  I<»H 

In  another  aspect  discipline  is  a  relation  between  the 
child  and  the  teacher,  and  here  the  contribution  of  the 
teacher  is  his  personality  and  the  force  of  his  \\  ill,  to  which 
the  child  responds  with  brust,  obedience,  and  the  will  to 
please. 

Yet  a  third  aspect  of  discipline  is  that  from  which  we 
regard  it  as  a  relation  between  the  child  and  his  work ; 
and  here  we  expect  interest  and  a  sense  of  duty  to  be 
contributed  by  the  child,  and  the  attractiveness  of  showing 
that  the  learning  demanded  is  a  means  to  a  desired  end  to 
be  a  feature  of  the  work.  The  recognition  by  the  pupil 
that  the  work,  even  though  distasteful,  helps  him  to  acquire 
a  power  which  he  sees  to  be  worth  having  will  carry  him 
over  the  drudgery  which  is  incidental  in  school  lessons,  as 
in  all  other  work  worth  doing  in  this  world. 

To  summarise  these  contributions  on  each  side :  we 
may  expect  from  the  child  physical  health,  subordination, 
docility,  and  interest  in  his  work ;  and  from  the  other 
parties  to  school  discipline  we  may  expect  a  wholesome 
physical  environment  and  a  good  tone  in  the  school ;  firm- 
ness, kindness  and  impressive  personality  on  the  part  of 
the  teacher ;  and  stimulating  method  in  the  teaching  of  the 
subjects  of  the  curriculum. 

Thus  stated,  it  might  appear  to  be  a  very  simple  matter ; 
but  in  actual  experience  it  is  not  unusual  to 

i    cu  les  o      £ncj  teachers  with  whom  government  is  a  real 
Government.  & 

difficulty.     Whence,  then,  does  the  difficulty 

arise  ?    If  our  analysis  of  the  factors  of  discipline  be  correct, 

such  difficulty  must  arise  from  the  failure  on  the  part  of 

one  of  the  related  parties  to  contribute  to  the  relation 

which  we  aim  at  establishing ;  but,  such  is  the  prejudice 

of  scholastic  mankind,  that  one  party  only — the  boy — is 

usually   blamed   by  the   master   for   the   failure.     If  the 

difficulty    arises    from    the    defective    ventilation    or    the 


170  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

squalid  and  unattractive  appearance  of  the  classroom,  or 
even  from  an  established  tradition  of  idleness  or  hostility 
among  the  boys,  the  school  is  to  blame,  but  the  boy  is 
punished.  If  it  arises  from  the  weakness  of  character  or 
from  the  insufferable  dullness  of  the  teacher,  the  teacher  is 
to  blame ;  but  still  the  boy  is  punished.  If,  again,  it  arises 
from  the  tedium  that  results  from  a  lesson  of  an  hour  and 
a  half  on  one  subject,  or  from  a  curriculum  or  time-table 
devised  in  such  a  way  as  to  reduce  the  pupils'  interest  to  a 
minimum,  it  may  be  said  that  the  work  is  at  fault ;  but 
yet  again  the  boy  is  punished. 

Failure  in  government  may  arise,  and  often  does  arise, 
from  another  cause, — the  unsuitability  of  the  teacher 
for  his  work.  Teaching  is  a  fine  art,  and  no  more  moral 
stigma  attaches  to  the  man  or  woman  who  cannot  attain 
success  in  it  than  to  those  who  are  incapable  of  becoming 
great  executive  musicians,  sculptors,  or  painters.  The 
giants  in  teaching  will  always  be  few  as  are  the  giants  in 
the  arts  whose  material  is  more  manageable  than  the  living 
souls  in  which  the  teacher  works.  Many  can,  however, 
attain  a  fair  amount  of  skill  and  can  do  good  craftsman's 
work  even  if  it  be  not  of  the  highest  artistic  worth.  But 
some  there  are  whose  inborn  nature  quite  unfits  them 
for  the  management  of  children.  Excellent  in  intention, 
zealous  in  endeavour,  kindly  in  disposition,  persevering  in 
effort,  they  yet  fail  systematically  even  though  they  digest 
mentally  all  the  manuals  on  discipline  that  were  ever 
written  and  endeavour  to  carry  out  their  precepts.  They 
are,  and  will  always  remain,  "  round  pegs  in  square  holes," 
and  the  wisest  thing  for  them  to  do  is  to  recognise  before 
it  is  too  late  that  excellent  pegs  as  they  may  be,  and 
admirably  fitted  to  stop  circular  holes,  yet  in  the  square 
holes  in  which  they  have  placed  themselves,  they  are,  and 
ever  will  be,  hopelessly  out  of  place,  and  with  much  dis- 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  171 

comfort  to  themselves  will  be  woefully  ineffective.  Let 
them  seek  some  other  occupation  even  if  they  have  to 
follow  old  Montaigne's  advice  and  "  go  to  make  minced- 
pies." 

But  children  are  not  impeccable,  and  the  boy  is  not 
much  less  likely  to  be  at  fault  than  the  teacher,  the  school, 
or  the  work.  Cases  do  arise  in  which  the  boy  fails  to 
contribute  his  share  of  subordination  and  docility,  or  even, 
through  the  influence  of  his  home  surroundings,  comes  to 
school  morally  or  physically  unfit  to  profit  by  the  system 
of  school  life  and  work ;  and  in  these  cases  he  has  to  be 
"  kept  in  order."  But  this  keeping  in  order  of  recalcitrant 
boys  is  a  small  and  merely  instrumental  part  of  the  system 
of  disciplinary  government  and  not,  as  many  teachers 
appear  to  believe,  the  whole  of  it. 

Two  points  require  some  further  elucidation  in  this  con- 
sideration of  disciplinary  government.     We 

Fear  as  a  have  included  obedience  as  an  element  in  the 

Factor  of  .  t       ,       ,       ■  -,  t 

Discipline.  relation  on  the  boy  s  side,  and  this  carries 

with  it  the  implication  of  some  fear.  For,  in 
the  last  resort,  disobedience  can  only  be  met  by  repression. 
But  we  have  made  no  explicit  mention  of  punishment  as 
the  corresponding  element  in  the  other  side  of  the  relation. 
It  must,  however,  be  noted  that  fear  is  a  part  of  the 
relation  of  the  boy  to  the  school  rather  than  a  part  of  his 
relation  to  the  master.  Anv  element  of  fear,  as  distinct 
from  respect,  in  a  personal  relation  implies  some  lack  of 
confidence,  and  we  have  alreadv  made  it  clear  that  the  ideal 
relation  which  the  master  should  aim  at  establishing  is 
that  of  perfect  confidence  in  himself  as  a  well-disposed, 
capable  and  experienced  guide  and  friend.  But  the  school- 
master has  a  double  function  to  fulfil,  as  a  man  and  as  an 
officer.  He  is  a  mail  in  personal  contact  with  children 
entrusted  to  him,  and  must  cultivate  a  personal  relation 


172  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

with  his  boys  untrammelled  by  the  cold  restraints  of 
officialism,  and  authoritative  mainly  by  virtue  of  his  age 
and  experience,  very  much  as  his  relation  is  authoritative 
towards  his  nephews  and  nieces.  But  he  is  at  the  same 
time  the  fly-wheel  in  a  big  spiritual  machine,  working  in 
contact  with  other  wheels,  of  which  the  individual  boys 
may  be  regarded  as  cogs,  and  driven  by  a  power  which 
is  the  school  life  and  organization.  In  this  capacity  he 
becomes  almost  impersonal,  and  the  class  must  have  this 
idea  of  him,  subordinate,  it  is  true,  to  their  knowledge  of 
him  and  affection  for  him  as  a  man,  but  present,  none  the 
less,  and  operating  in  a  wholesome  fear  of  his  authority, 
or,  to  continue  the  metaphor,  a  fear  of  his  inevitableness. 
He  is  a  wheel  that  must  turn,  and  that  must  crush  any 
foreign  body  thrust  in  between  itself  and  the  cogs  that 
engage  with  it.  When  a  great  machine  is  at  rest  no  one 
will  fear  injury  from  any  part  of  it ;  it  is  only  the  driving- 
power  which  makes  it  formidable.  And  so,  the  boy  should 
learn  to  regard  his  master  as  formidable  only  when  he  is 
directly  representing  the  power  of  the  whole  system.  Out 
of  school  he  is  to  be  regarded  chiefly  as  an  agreeable  and 
sympathetic  friend ;  in  school  he  must  at  times  sink  this 
friendliness  in  a  dealing  with  offences  which  is  so  imper- 
sonal and  inflexible  that  it  may  even  appear  to  the  boy  as 
relentless  and  almost  unhuman. 

Here,  and  here  only,  the  element  of  fear  may  enter  as  a 
contributory  factor  into  discipline ,-  and  then  it  is  not  the 
craven  fear  of  physical  pain,  nor  the  mental  panic  of  a 
weak  will  in  opposition  to  a  stronger,  but  rather  that  fear 
of  the  unknown  which  is  akin  to  reverence. 

As  a  corollary  it  may  be  seen  that  frequent  demon- 
strations of  power  weaken  government  by  removing  this 
element  of  mystery,  and  further  that  the  frequent  use  of 
severe  punishments  puts  government  on  a  lower  plane  by 


EXERCISE    OP    DISCIPLINE.  173 

converting  a  dignified  IVa.r  into  mere  cowardice  or  fear  of 
physical  discomfort;    that  is,  the  governmenl    Pails  to  be 

disciplinary. 

The  inclusion  of   punishment,   also,   as  a  contributory 

factor  of  disciplinary  government  may  be 
Punishment  accounted  for  in  very  much  the  same  way  as 
of  Discipline       we  nave  accounted  for  the  inclusion  of  the 

element  of  fear.  Punishment  is  the  normal 
consequence  of  what  is  abnormal;  it  is  not  designed  as  a 
part  of  the  normal  working  of  the  original  machinery.  It 
is  a  factor  of  discipline;  but  a  factor  which  becomes 
operative  only  as  a  reaction  upon  a  breach  of  law  that 
cannot  be  treated  otherwise. 

We  are  fully  aware  that  this  conception  of  the  place  of 
punishment  may  appear  visionary  or  ideal  in  view  of  its 
actual  position  in  the  practice  of  government  in  many 
existing  schools ;  but  we  have  also  tried  to  show  that 
punishment  owes  its  present  position  largely  to  its  use  in 
correcting  or  covering  faults  in  the  relation  of  the  boy  to 
his  surroundings  which  would  be  more  efficiently  and  more 
justly  corrected  by  modifying  the  surroundings  instead  of 
by  punishing  the  boy.  Punishment  is  often  an  admission 
of  weakness  ;  not  infrequently  a  confession  of  failure. 

It  is  an  important  feature  of  school  discipline  that  it 
shall  encourage  or  create  a  confidential  relation  between 
the  pupils  and  their  teacher.  The  responsibility  of  the 
schoolmaster  does  not  end  when  the  boy  leaves  school  any 
more  than  the  responsibility  of  the  ship-builder  ends  on 
the  day  of  the  launch.  Each  is  commissioned  to  construct 
a  seaworthy  vessel,  competent  to  sail  either  in  calm  or  in 
stormy  seas,  and  each  neglects  his  duty  if  he  is  content  merely 
to  build  up  a  fairly  handsome  structure  which  will  glide 
gracefully  off  the  ways  and  keep  afloat  until  the  crowd  has 
dispersed.     In  the   storms   of  life,  and  especially  in  the 


174  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

equinoctial  gales  of  youth,  the  vessel  is  certain  to  receive 
many  hard  blows  and  to  sustain  trivial  or  serious  injuries. 
Often  it  has  to  put  back  for  repairs,  and  the  shipyard  at 
which  it  was  built  mav  well  be  one  of  those  at  which 
it  seeks  them.  It  is,  therefore,  the  function  of  the 
school  to  provide  a  boy,  in  the  person  of  each  master  Avho 
has  any  part  in  his  training,  with  a  "  guide,  philosopher 
and  friend,"  willing  and  capable  to  give  advice  in  time  of 
necessity,  either  during  or  after  the  school  period  of  the 
boy's  life ;  and  it  is  the  duty  of  the  master  so  to  treat  his 
boys  that  they  will  have  confidence  in  his  ability,  and  no 
fear  of  his  unwillingness,  to  give  such  advice  in  a  friendly 
and  unofficial  spirit. 

This  relation  between  boy  and  master  is  frequently 
destroyed  by  the  too  rigid  government  of  the  martinet, 
or  by  the  fond  indulgence  of  the  lax  ruler.  The  one  by 
his  habitual  severity  maims  himself  as  a  schoolmaster  by 
rendering  impossible  a  relation  which  is  essentially  a  part 
of  his  life  as  an  active  member  of  the  body  to  which  he 
belongs  ;  the  other  fails  to  inspire  respect  for  his  own 
character,  and  consequently  does  not  appear  to  the  boy  as 
one  competent  to  help  in  times  of  stress. 

4.  How  then  shall  the  earnest  schoolmaster  set  about 
establishing  the  true  relation  ?     As  we  saw 

Influence*^  *n  ^ie  Prece(lmg  chapter,  he  influences  indi- 
viduals through  the  tone  of  the  mass.  But 
he  influences  that  tone  through  his  dealings  with  indi- 
viduals. Of  his  influence  on  the  school  tone  we  need  add 
nothing  to  what  was  said  in  that  place,  except  that  at 
times  of  general  wrong-doing  a  public  address  to  the 
school,  temperately  and  firmly  given,  may  be  in  place.  It 
need  hardly  be  pointed  out  what  a  powerful  instrument  of 
discipline  the  sermons  in  the  chapel  of  a  Public  School 
may  be  made. 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  175 

But  with  reference  to  his  dealing  with  individuals  a  few 

more  words  may  be  said.     Times  must  occur 

Personal  when   the   watchful  master  sees  that  indi- 

Kelations. 

vidua]  boys  are  going  wrong    are  becoming 

idle  or  untruthful,  or  are  contracting  an  undesirable,  or 

even  a  vicious,  habit,     At  other  times,  an  individual — it 

may  be  an   individual   usually  virtuous — falls   into  some 

special  sin;  if  such  sin  be  not  met  at  once,  a  sinful  habit 

and  a  wicked  habitude  may  be  formed. 

The  master  must  deal  with  such  a  case  privately.  Let 
him  remember  that  mere  reproof  is  not  enough.  In  every 
boy's  soul  is  some  spot  of  goodness,  and  upon  that  the 
master  must  act.  He  cannot,  therefore,  meet  sin  unless 
he  know  his  boys.  Nor  can  he  learn  them  just  at  the 
moment  when  he  most  requires  that  knowledge.  Only  a 
regular  study  of  each  individual  can  enable  him  to  deal 
with  the  case  when  occasion  demands.  Knowing  his  boy, 
let  him  affectionately,  yet  gravely  and  earnestly,  appeal  to 
his  better  nature  and  show  him  in  a  few  well  chosen  words 
— the  fewer  the  better,  so  long  as  they  are  sufficient — the 
real  nature  of  his  fault ;  let  him  point  out  without  exagge- 
ration the  consequences  to  which  it  must  ultimately  lead  if 
it  be  continued :  let  him,  in  short,  help  the  boy  to  see 
himself.  For  only  so  can  his  words  have  the  effect  he 
desires.  He  may  apply  the  torch,  but  the  inner  light  must 
be  kindled  and  must  burn  in  the  boy's  own  soul. 

But  in  addition  to  dealing  with  individual  cases  of 
wrong-doing,  the  master  also  brings  his  personal  influence 
to  bear  in  special  ways  on  the  elder  boys  of  his  school, 
especially  upon  those  who  are,  as  prefects,  in  a  position  of 
authority.  With  these  his  relations  should  be  confidential 
and  intimate.  He  should  show  that  he  regards  them  as 
fellow-workers  with  himself  for  the  good  of  the  school. 
He  should  make  quite  clear  to  them  the  functions  they  are 


176  EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

to  fulfil,  aud  he  should  show  himself  ready  at  all  times  to 
give  them  advice  and  to  welcome  aud  consider  their  sugges- 
tions. But  he  should  not  attempt  to  pry  into  every  detail 
of  their  dealings  with  the  other  boys  over  whom  they  have 
authority.  On  the  contrary,  he  should  let  them  see  that  he 
has  given  them  responsibility,  and  that  lie  trusts  them  to 
bear  the  burden  of  it  nobly  and  well.  At  the  same  time, 
he  must  hold  himself  ready  to  depose  from  office  any  one 
who  shows  himself  unworthy  or  incompetent. 

Similarly  should  the  Head-master  work  with  his  assist- 
ants. While  controlling  the  main  lines  both  of  govern- 
ment and  of  teaching,  he  should  yet  leave  to  his  colleagues 
freedom  in  all  details,  should  be  ready  to  listen  to  sugges- 
tions for  improvement  in  any  part  of  the  school  life,  and, 
by  often  seeking  the  advice  of  the  members  of  his  staff, 
should  encourage  them  to  seek  his.  So  only  can  that  unity 
of  purpose  and  of  effort  be  achieved  without  which  a  school 
cannot  be  a  place  of  true  discipline  and  training. 

Above  all,  no  schoolmaster  can  afford  to  neglect  the 
tremendous  force  of  personal  example.  Sug- 
Persona  1  y  gestion,  conveyed  by  the  characters  of  those 
with  whom  we  are  in  daily  contact,  is  a 
powerful  factor  for  good  or  ill  in  the  lives  of  the  strongest ; 
it  affects  the  characters  of  adult  men  and  women  more 
surely  than  any  element  in  their  lives  other  than  their  own 
actions.  "  A  man  is  known  by  his  friends  "  is  only  half  the 
truth  ;  the  other  and  more  important  half  for  our  purpose 
is  that  a  man  is  made  by  his  friends.  And  children, 
whose  characters  are  yet  in  the  making,  are  naturally  still 
more  subject  to  such  influence.  They  imitate  quite  uncon- 
sciously, apart  from  the  conscious  mimicry  in  which  they 
delight ;  and  the  teacher,  recognising  that  example  is  more 
powerful  than  precept,  should  see  to  it  that  it  is  also 
better. 


i:\URCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  177 

It  is  not  enough — though  perhaps  it  is  much  -for  a 
teacher  to  have  a  sentimental  feeling  thai  his  example 
must  be  good.  He  should  enquire  also  in  what  directions 
especially  his  good  character  will  be  most  telling. 

It  is  often  assumed  that  the  athlete  can  do  no  wrong, 
and  we  hear  of  head-masters  who  telegraph  to  Lord's 
Cricket  Ground  to  engage  a  young  man — wTith  whom 
personally  they  are  not  acquainted — who  has  just  made  a 
'  century  '  or  taken  many  wickets  in  the  University  match. 
Let  it  not  be  thought  that  we  despise  these  achievements ; 
doubtless  they  are  the  outcome  of  some  specialised  merit 
and  of  much  specialised  skill.  But  in  themselves  they  can 
be  no  substitute  for  the  sterling  qualities  of  character  which 
may  be  attributes  of  the  man  wTho  is  scholarly  rather  than 
athletic. 

The  best  schoolmasters  must  have  some  degree  of  in- 
tellectual ability  and  culture.  Thev  must,  in  fact,  know 
much  more  of  their  subject  than  they  propose  to  teach. 
And  this  indicates  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every  teacher  to 
keep  moving.  He  must  never  stagnate.  He  must  read, 
not  only  in  his  special  subjects  but  for  the  general  culture 
of  his  mind.  He  should  be  able  to  discuss,  rationally  and 
without  prejudice,  the  topics  of  the  day,  he  should  know 
something — more  than  a  mere  smattering — of  literature, 
art  and  nature,  besides  being  thoroughly  familiar  with  the 
background  and  position  in  general  thought  of  the  sub- 
jects of  which  he  may  be  teaching  only  the  rudiments. 

And  with  this  depth  and  width  of  knowledge  there 
should  be  simplicity  and  sincerity.  The  teacher  is  not  a 
mountebank  to  parade  his  vast  erudition  before  gaping 
louts  at  a  country  fair.  In  fact,  he  should  not  recognise 
that  he  has  great  knowledge.  Erudition  has  been  called 
the  grave  of  thought,  and  the  teacher's  aim  must  be  not  to 
become  learned  but  to  become  serviceable  to  his  boys. 
m.  d.  s.  12 


178  EXEHCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE. 

For  this  reason  he  must  have  great  reserve  and  self- 
control.  His  is  not  a  business  in  which  it  is  wise  to  put 
all  the  goods  in  the  shop-window  with  their  prices  clearly 
marked.  He  must  tempt  the  eye  with  a  few  good  articles 
within  easy  reach  of  acquirement,  and  then,  like  a  good 
salesman,  lure  the  buyer  to  purchase  things  which  at  first 
he  would  have  considered  to  be  widely  outside  the  resources 
of  his  purse.  The  child,  who  in  this  parable  is  the  cus- 
tomer, would  be  driven  away  from  intellectual  sympathy 
with  the  ostentatious  scholar,  but  he  may  be  wooed  and 
won  for  great  intellectual  acquirements  if  the  teacher  hold 
these  in  reserve.  But  they  must  be  there  for  production 
when  the  necessity  shall  arise.  Knowledge  of  rudiments  is 
a  good  groundwork  for  the  child,  but  the  teacher  must  not 
rest  content  with  rudiments  as  his  own  equipment. 

With  knowledge,  with  simplicity,  sincerity,  and  reserve, 
the  teacher  should  also  have  feeling,  enthusiasm  and  cheer- 
fulness. It  is  his  duty  not  only  to  impart  information,  he 
must  also  provide  inspiration.  And  inspiration  was  never 
yet  derived  from  a  jelly-fish,  not  even  from  the  most 
thoughtful  and  scholarly  of  jelly-fishes.  The  teacher, 
therefore,  in  order  to  inspire  must  have  enthusiasm  for  his 
work  and  must  be  able  to  express  that  enthusiasm — still, 
be  it  remembered,  with  reserve — by  speech,  by  look,  by 
gesture,  so  that  it  becomes  contagious  and  is  communi- 
cated to  his  class.  An  enthusiasm  which  is  ill-controlled 
becomes,  if  intellectual,  a  fad,  if  moral,  fanaticism. 
Either  of  these  is  sickening  to  those  on  whom  it  operates 
frequently,  and  each  produces,  sooner  or  later,  a  revul- 
sion of  feeling  which  the  faddist  or  the  fanatic  would 
be  the  first  to  deplore.  But  when  it  is  held  in  check, 
enthusiasm  is  a  moving  force  which  inspires  our  own  lives 
and  communicates  the  lust  for  progress  to  others.  That 
was  a  good  testimonial  which  was  given  by  an  American 


EXERCISE    OF    DISCIPLINE.  179 

business  man  to  one  of  his  late  clerks  "This  young  man 
kin  he  relied  on  not  to  slop  over." 

And  this  reference  to  business  men  leads  us  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  last  quality  of  a  teacher  which  need  be 
introduced  here.  Whether  he  be  a  scholar  or  an  ignoramus, 
whether  he  be  a  man  of  fire  or  a  man  of  mud,  he  must  bo 
methodical.  Regular  setting  of  work,  regularity  in  writing- 
reports  or  in  issuing  lists  of  marks,  regularity  and  punc- 
tuality in  attendance  at  school  and  in  returning  corrected 
exercises,  above  all,  punctuality  in  closing  school, —  all 
these  are  the  essential  framework  upon  wrhich  the  good 
teacher's  character  must  be  built  up.  All  schoolmasters 
have  these  routine  duties,  all  boys  recognise  them  as  part 
of  the  machinery  of  school  life,  and  a  feeling  of  instability 
and  unrest  is  aroused  if  they  are  irregularly  performed. 
Surely  it  must  have  been  for  schoolmasters  that  the 
encouragement  wTas  intended,  "  Despise  not  the  day  of 
small  things." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

1.  We  have  seen   that   government   is   educative   only 

when  it  is  an  instrument  of  discipline ;  and, 
Organization  .  *■ ■        ' 

as  an  Instru-      eyen    m    government,   we    have    found   that 

ment  of  punishment  should  hold  a  very  subordinate 

iscip  me.  an(^  entirely  auxiliary  place.      For  the  aim 

is  to  influence  the  will,  and  this  is  attained  mainly  through 
the  positive  corporate  life  of  the  school,  and  but  little 
through  reaction  on  offences.  The  organization  of  this 
life  is,  then,  a  potent  instrument  of  discipline,  and  from 
that  point  of  view  we  must  now  examine  it. 

2.  This  machinery  of  discipline,  as  we  may  call  it,  is 

necessarily  widely  different  according  to  the 
Differences  of  diff erent  kinds  0f  scllool  and  classes  of  ch^i  ren 
Organization. 

in  which  and  for  which  it  operates. 

For  the  better  consideration  of  such  differences  of 
organization,  it  may  be  well  to  deal  separately  with  day 
schools  and  with  boarding  schools.  In  the  former,  much 
more  must  depend  on  the  influence  of  the  home  upon  the 
child,  and  much  more  drastic  treatment  is  necessary  in 
cases  of  recalcitrant  behaviour,  since  the  day  school  aims 
at  accomplishing  in  five  hours  a  day  what  the  boarding- 
school  may  achieve  by  more  gradual  means  in  twenty-four 
hours.  In  other  words,  the  day  school  is  more  obviously 
the  complement  of  the  home  ;  the  boarding  school,  for  long 
periods,  has,  very  largely,  to  act  as  its  substitute. 

180 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       181 

Further,  in  the  clay  school,  the  parent  has  readier  access 
to  the  child,  and  hears  immediately  of  any  of  those  trivial 
details  in  which  the  relation  of  the  child  and  school  ceases 
temporarily  to  be  harmonious.  Such  details  must  occur 
in  every  school,  but  they  do  not  rankle ;  and  in  the  board- 
ing school  they  are  usually  forgotten  or  rightly  ignored  in 
the  weekly  home  letter.  In  the  day  school,  however,  the 
parent  usually  hears  the  child's  version  and,  even  when 
there  is  fault  on  both  sides,  not  unnaturally  feels  that  the 
school  has  betrayed  its  trust.  As  a  result,  the  day  school, 
in  which  the  cooperation  of  the  home  is  most  needed,  loses 
this  cooperation  more  frequently  than  the  boarding  school, 
because  the  parents  see  the  details  narrowly  and  often 
interpret  them  with  prejudiced  minds,  and  because  they 
do  not,  cannot  or  will  not  take  the  backward  step  from 
the  easel  which  would  obscure  the  detail  to  reveal  the  total 
effect  of  the  picture. 

3.  The  common  ground  in  the  organization  of  day  schools 
and  boarding  schools  is  obviously  the  organ- 
OffiCePs^ary  ization  for  purposes  of  teaching  and  games  ; 
but,  since  the  teaching  officers  and  the  dis- 
ciplinary officers  are,  in  a  measure,  the  same,  we  may 
avoid  repetition  by  considering  the  duties  of  the  teaching 
staff1  in  connexion  with  discipline  in  both  kinds  of  school 
at  the  same  time. 

So  far  as  they  decide  the  course  of  study,  the  Head- 

master  and  Form-  or  Class-masters  are  clearly 

Staff ,mS  responsible  for  the    attitude  towards   work 

which  the  boys  assume.     Discipline,  so  far 

as  it  is  regarded  as  the  relation  of  the  boy  to  his  work,  is 

in  their  hands,  and  the  Head-master  must  cultivate  a  right 

1  In  referring  to  form  masters  in  boarding  schools  it  must  be 
understood  that  they  are  considered  only  as  form  masters  apart 
from  their  work  as  house  masters  or  house  tutors. 


182       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

relation  in  this  respect  by  requiring  a  high  standard  of 
industry  and  careful  work  both  from  the  boys  and  from 
his  staff.  But  it  is  essential  that  he  should  not  obscure 
the  real  issue  by  trivial  or  formal  requirements.  The 
practice  of  some  Head-masters  and  Head-mistresses  of  in- 
sisting on  all  written  work  throughout  the  school  being 
presented  in  a  particular  form,  with  certain  invariable 
rules  as  to  margin,  or  underlining,  or  the  use  of  red  ink, 
is  unwise  and  unwholesome.  These  matters  are  surely 
the  concern  of  the  class-teachers  only,  and  should  be  left 
in  their  hands.  Some  of  them  doubtless  will  approve  of 
this  uniformity  of  detail,  and  these  will  insist  upon  it  in 
any  case  ;  but  others  will  regard  such  things  as  trivial 
and  non-essential,  and  will  prefer  to  expend  their  energies 
on  the  quality  rather  than  on  the  form  of  the  work. 
Friction  is  certain  to  arise  if  the  Head  require  his  staff 
to  issue  orders  with  which  they  are  not  in  sympathy  about 
their  own  work.  He  is,  of  course,  perfectly  justified  in 
insisting  on  careful  work  and  good  writing,  and  should 
call  the  attention  of  individual  form-masters  to  any  general 
or  particular  laxity  in  these  or  other  respects  in  the  forms 
or  boys  of  whom  they  have  charge. 

The   Head-master   should   support   his    staff   in    every 
possible   way   in   cases   of   conflict   between 

Headmaster  ■  ^s  anc^  masters  which  result  in  an  appeal 
to  the  Head  or  in  a  boy  being  sent  up  for 
punishment.  But  this  does  not  mean  that  he  can  dispense 
with  the  impartiality  of  the  judge.  The  Head  is  the  Final 
Court  of  Appeal,  and  he  is  head  over  his  colleagues  as  well 
as  over  his  pupils.  To  regard  it  as  the  duty  of  the  Head- 
master to  punish  a  boy  whenever  an  assistant  demands  it 
is  to  depose  him  from  his  headship,  and  to  make  him 
merely  a  mechanical  executioner  of  the  will  of  his  sub- 
ordinates.    Such  a  position  is  fatal  to  the  true  working  of 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       183 

tlie  school :  far  hotter  would  it  ho  for  the  Head  to  hear  no 
appeals  at  all,  but  to  delegate  all  Ins  disciplinary  powers 
to  his  assistants.  In  each  case  the  school  ceases  to  he  a 
school  and  hecomes  a  collection  of  independent  class-units. 
In  the  latter  case  it  does  this  openly  ;  in  the  former  it 
does  it  as  truly,  hut  pretends  that  it  retains  its  essential 
unity. 

When  an  appeal  is  made  to  the  Head — whether  it  he  by 
assistant  master  or  by  pupil — each  party  to  the  appeal 
must  recognise  that  it  is  an  appeal  to  the  higher  court, 
and  each  must  loyally  accept  the  result.  The  Head-master 
cannot  divest  himself  of  the  responsibility  of  deciding  the 
case  and  of  acting  on  his  decision.  Of  course,  if  the 
assistants  are  worthy  of  their  posts,  the  decision  required 
by  justice  will  usually  be  in  their  favour  ;  for  they  are 
wiser,  less  impulsive,  and  more  self- controlled  than  the 
boys.  But  in  the  cases  in  which  justice  is  on  the  side 
of  the  pupils,  the  Head  does  incalculable  mischief  if 
he  decide  against  the  boy  merely  in  order  to  support 
the  authority  of  his  colleague.  For  the  authority  thus 
bolstered  up  is  obviously  that  of  the  tyrant ;  the  law 
supported  is  that  "  justice  is  the  interest  of  the  stronger." 
The  true  law  of  justice,  which  is  the  very  life-blood 
of  the  school,  is  negated.  And  this  negation  is  per- 
fectly evident  to  the  boy.  His  respect  for  the  Head  is 
slain  ;  his  relation  to  the  assistant  master  is  not  im- 
proved ;  his  whole  attitude  towards  authority  in  the  school 
is  vitiated. 

But  a  just  decision  adverse  to  an  assistant  need  not 
entail  any  serious  results.  A  boy  does  not  expect  his 
masters  to  be  infallible ;  rather  does  he  scorn  anv  as- 
sumption  of  infallibility  by  them ;  and,  when  the  Head 
is  frankly  recognised  as  Head,  no  contemptuous  feel- 
ings   are    evoked    in    the    boy   against    his    form-master 


184       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

because  the  latter  has,  for  once,  been  shown  to  be  mis- 
taken. Indeed,  the  wise  assistant,  when  he  recognises 
during  the  hearing  of  an  appeal  that  he  has  been  in 
the  wrong,  will  frankly  and  openly  acknowledge  it;  and 
nothing  so  thoroughly  re-establishes  true  relations  be- 
tween him  and  the  boy  as  such  an  exhibition  of  true 
courage  on  his  part. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  when  appeals  are  regularly 
decided  against  an  assistant  it  is  evident  that  either  he  or 
the  Head  is  unfitted  for  his  post.  If  his  colleagues  have 
the  same  experience  the  presumption  is  against  the  Head  : 
if  they  do  not,  it  is  against  the  assistant. 

Thus,  the  Head-master's  loyal  support  of  his  colleagues 
must  be  restrained  within  the  bounds  of  justice  ;  but  within 
those  bounds  it  should  be  absolute  and  whole-hearted. 

In    many    schools,    especially    of    the    types    of    lower 
secondary   schools  and  preparatory   schools, 
Power  of  ^  is  the  custom  for  the  Head-master  alone 

Punishment  ;     *°  administer  corporal  punishment. 

There  are  some  good  reasons  for  this 
custom.  The  Head-master  thus  protects  himself  and  the 
reputation  of  the  school  against  the  indiscretion  of  the 
more  inexperienced  members  of  his  staff,  and  he  is  able 
also  to  obtain  a  more  personal  knowledge  of  the  principal 
delinquents  in  the  school  and  the  capacity  for  government 
of  his  several  colleagues. 

But  there  are  objectionable  features  of  the  system  as 
well.  It  suggests  a  distrust  of  the  discretion  of  the 
assistant  masters,  and  is  apt  to  lead  the  boys,  who  often 
think  very  crudely  on  such  matters,  to  regard  them  as 
inferior  in  every  respect  to  the  Head-master  because  of 
their  inferiority  in  this  particular.  It  has  a  further 
disadvantage  in  the  fact  that  it  often  deprives  the  punish- 
ment of  its  chief  value.     Corporal  punishment,  even  more 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       185 

than  any  other,  is  most  appropriately  administered  im- 
mediately after  the  offence;  and  its  deterrent  value  is 
greater  if  it  take  the  form  of  a  caning  "there  and  then ' 
than  if  it  is  regarded  by  the  boys  merely  as  an  interview 
with  the  Head-master,  either  reported  to  he  painful  and 
unpleasant  or  else  made  light  of,  according  to  the  individual 
temperaments  of  successive  victims. 

A  further  objection  is  that  it  piles  up  another  barrier 
between  the  Head-master  and  his  boys.  From  the  nature 
of  his  duties  he  can  see  little  of  the  individual  boys  of  his 
school;  and  if  his  interviews  with  them  are  always,  or  even 
frequently,  occasions  to  be  dreaded,  he  can  hardly  hope  to 
win  the  affection  or  confidence  of  the  school.  The  form- 
master  has  opportunities  of  showing  that  his  caning  is  an 
exhibition  of  his  official  personality  and  that  his  human 
personality  co-exists  with  it.  In  extreme  cases,  the  Head- 
master, for  all  that  the  boys  know  to  the  contrary,  may 
have  no  human  personality  at  all ! 

Again,  for  a  new  master  in  a  troublesome  class  the 
value  of  judicious  caning  is  very  great,  and  it  is  often  a 
serious  handicap  at  the  beginning  to  compel  a  master  to 
rely  for  government  upon  the  force  of  his  own  personality, 
before  he  has  had  time  or  opportunity  to  make  that 
personality  felt. 

It  would  probably  be  satisfactory  in  most  schools  if  an 
arrangement  could  be  made  whereby  a  new  master  might 
be  allowed  to  use  the  cane  at  first ;  the  question  of  the 
continuance  of  the  power  to  be  decided  later.  Knowing 
that  his  power  in  this  matter  would  lapse  unless  he  used 
it  with  much  discretion,  he  would  naturally  try  to  depend 
less  and  less  upon  the  exercise  of  that  power,  and  corporal 
punishment  as  an  instrument  of  government  would  be 
kept  in  its  proper  place— merely  to  enforce  order  at  the 
time  when  the   master's  relation  with  his  boys  has  not 


186       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

become  so  firmly  established  as  to  preclude  disorder,  or  to 
meet  any  sporadic  outbreak  of  disorder,  such  as  might  be 
caused  by  a  new  boy  before  lie  is  acclimatised  to  the  class, 
or  by  the  want  of  self-control  of  a  mischievous  or  im- 
pertinent pupil.  In  any  case  of  indiscreet  exercise  of  the 
power,  the  Head-master  would  be  in  a  position  to  warn  the 
assistant  that  he  would  be  deprived  of  the  power  unless  he 
mended  his  ways. 

Apart  from  corporal  punishment,  the  teaching  staffs  both 
of  boarding  and  of  day  schools  have  means  of  securing 
order  in  the  stimulus  of  their  teaching,  in  their  own  attitude 
towards  work,  in  their  personal  influence  and  example  in 
this  and  other  directions,  and  in  the  use  of  other  forms  of 
routine  punishment  which  will  be  discussed  in  their  proper 
place. 

The   disciplinary  organization   other  than   that   of   the 

teaching  staff  differs  so  widely  in  the  two 

kinds    of    school   that   we    must    deal    with 
them  separately. 

In  day  schools  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  boy- officers, 

known  as  prefects  or  monitors,  who  have 
Schools  certain  duties  in  connexion  with  government. 

School-prefects  may  be  empowered  to  check 
disorderly  behaviour  of  junior  boys  in  streets  or  trains,  to 
keep  order  in  the  school  hall  or  corridors,  to  undertake 
roll-call  in  school  or  at  compulsory  games,  and  to  report 
cases  of  smoking  or  other  impropriety.  In  schools  where 
there  is  considerable  difference  of  age  between  the  older 
and  the  younger  boys  there  is  little  objection  to  this 
practice  of  giving  considerable  authority  to  the  older. 
They  are  able  to  take  responsibility  seriously  and  of  an  age 
to  profit  greatly  by  having  such  responsibilities.  They  are 
made  guardians  of  the  honour  and  reputation  of  the  school, 
and  are  on  duty  at  times  and  in  places  where  there  is  little 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       187 

chance  of   effective  supervision  of    the  younger  boys  by 
masters  or  by  parents. 

But  there  is  a  practice  among  many  elementary  school- 
teachers of  making  a  Class-monitor  or  H<iad-b<>y  respon- 
sible to  a  certain  extent  for  the  discipline  of  the  class-room. 
The  least  objectionable  form  which  this  practice  takes  is 
that  in  which  the  monitor's  duties  are  mechanical  or 
secretarial.  Teachers  are  often  heard  to  say,  "  Monitor, 
put  that  boy's  name  down,"  merely  to  save  themselves  the 
trouble  of  doing  so  or  of  remembering  what  boys  are  to  be 
punished.  It  is  so  obviously  a  dismissal  of  the  subject 
from  the  teacher's  mind — if  indeed  it  be  not  a  confession 
that  he  does  not  know  the  names  of  his  boys- — that,  when  the 
tone  of  the  class  is  unsatisfactory,  boys  may  trade  upon  the 
fact,  and  either  fail  to  put  down  the  name  or  substitute  a 
less  popular  name  for  it.  A  worse  form  of  the  practice  is 
to  give  the  monitor  discretionary  power.  "  Monitor,  come 
out  here  and  put  down  the  name  of  any  boy  who  talks  "  is 
not  an  uncommon  command,  though  it  is  a  very  vicious 
one.  The  great  fault  of  all  such  practices  is  that  the  boy 
is  put  into  a  position  of  authority  without  having  any 
increased  responsibility.  He  is  in  authority  over  his 
equals,  and  possibly  his  seniors,  in  age,  and  instead  of 
being  a  responsible  officer  he  becomes  a  petty  informer. 
The  elementary  school  has  not,  usually,  a  strong  tradition 
against  tale-bearing  or  '  sneaking,'  and  this  use  of  class- 
monitors  does  nothing  to  create  such  a  tradition.  We 
have  actually  seen  a  monitor  in  a  class-room  from  which 
the  master  was  temporarily  absent  accepting  bribes  of 
sweets  and  other  desirable  things  in  the  most  unblushing 
manner  from  boys  whose  names  he  was  threatening  to  put 
down.  His  collection  from  the  whole  class  was  enormous, 
but  his  value  as  an  officer  of  discipline  and  his  contribution 
to  the  moral  tone  of  the  school  were  negative.     Speaking 


188       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OP    THE    SCHOOL. 

generally,  it  may  be  said  that  disciplinary  officers  should 
not  be  appointed  from  among  the  children  in  elementary 
schools.  The  leaving  age  is  too  low  for  the  elder  boys  to 
have  arrived  at  a  time  of  life  when  they  can  make  any 
wholesome  use  of  authoritative  power. 

In    preparatory   boarding    schools   this    immaturity    of 

youth  is,  to  a  certain  extent,  modified  by 
in  Preparatory  £}ie  circumstances  of  school  life.  Boys  who 
Schools,  are   n°t   living   at   home   generally    develop 

somewhat  more  rapidly  in  their  power  of 
acting,  or  at  least  of  thinking  for  themselves  and  for  their 
fellows,  than  do  those  for  whom  everything  is  done  by 
attentive  parents  or  by  elder  brothers  or  sisters.  For  this 
reason  it  is  often  desirable  that  the  older  pupils  in  pre- 
paratory boarding  schools  should  be  given  some  authority 
whereby  they  are  enabled  to  make  use  of  this  greater 
power.  But  it  must  always  be  borne  in  mind  that  such 
boy-officers  are  actually  very  young,  and  their  duties  and 
responsibilities  should  be  strictly  limited  to  ways  in  which 
the  wayfaring  men,  though  fools,  cannot  err. 

In  the  secondary  boarding  school  the  disciplinary  value 

of  prefects  is  very  great,  but  many  problems 
in  Secondary  present  themselves  in  connexion  with  their 
Schools.  selection  and  duties.     There  are  two  classes 

of  boys  who  apparently  have  claim  to  selec- 
tion as  prefects,  and  schools  vary,  at  the  present  time,  in 
their  recognition  of  these  claims  ;  most  schools  compromise 
by  appointing  both  classes. 

The  persons  eligible  for  such  duty  are  obviously  the 
Sixth  Form  by  virtue  of  their  intellectual  superiority  and 
their  age,  and  the  persons  distinguished  in  the  school  by 
being  office-holders  in  cricket  or  football  teams  or  in  other 
branches  of  school  athletics.  It  is  argued  in  favour  of  the 
former  that  they  are  the  better  qualified  for  the  difficult 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       189 

and  responsible  work  of  prefects,  that  their  position  in 
the  school  commands  respect  and  justifies  authority.  In 
favour  of  the  latter  it  is  urged  that  a  small  boy's  hero- 
worship  is  naturally  inclined  more  towards  those  who  are 
eminent  in  games  than  towards  the  others ;  that  the 
athletes  will  therefore  be  more  likely  to  command  respect 
and  obedience. 

In  the  school  to  which  we  chiefly  owe  the  present  practice 
of  government  bv  bovs,  the  tradition  has  been  unbroken 
since  Arnold  organized  the  system  by  which  the  school  was 
transformed  from  a  very  unsatisfactory  to  a  thoroughly 
sound  condition.  Here  it  is  the  '  Sixths '  who  have 
authority  in  many  matters  of  disciplinary  government. 
The  '  Swells,'  who  are  the  people  of  athletic  importance, 
have  certain  privileges,  but  no  definite  authority  outside 
their  own  sphere.  This  system  seems  to  be  in  many 
respects  the  most  reasonable.  The  '  Swells '  (to  keep  the 
convenient  Bugby  appellation)  already  have  the  command 
of  their  teams  or  clubs,  they  already  have  the  respect 
which  is  the  due  of  athletic  prowess,  they  already  have  the 
influence  of  position  and  achievement  which  will  benefit 
the  school  if  thev  exert  it  rightlv ;  and  if  thev  do  not  make 
a  right  use  of  command,  respect,  and  influence,  they  are 
obviously  unfitted  for  the  office  of  prefect.  Admittedly,  the 
small  boy  needs  no  encouragement  to  respect  the  '  Swells,' 
it  would,  therefore,  be  a  waste  of  powerful  influences 
to  duplicate  offices  and  to  make  the  Cricket  Captain 
the  Senior  Prefect  by  virtue  of  his  office.  But  it  may  be 
that  athletic  achievement  looms  too  large  upon  the  healthy 
boy's  horizon,  that  he  may  occasionally  regard  school  work 
too  much  as  a  necessary  rest  from  the  real  business  of 
games  ;  and  for  this  reason  alone,  apart  from  any  question 
of  their  superior  fitness  for  office,  it  may  be  well  to  make 
the  members  of  the  Sixth  the  office-holders  of  the  school. 


190       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

Of  the  duties  of  prefects  little  need  be  said.  Much  will 
depend  on  the  general  conditions  of  the  life  and  organi- 
zation of  the  school  in  which  they  hold  office.  Their 
obvious  function,  and  that  for  which  young  officers  are  best 
fitted,  is  in  connexion  with  the  maintenance  of  order  at 
times  and  in  places  where  the  presence  of  a  master,  for 
purposes  of  teaching,  is  unnecessary.  They  can,  and  do, 
keep  order  during  evening  '  preparation,'  in  the  dormitory, 
and  in  the  house  generally.  But  they  can  do  more  than 
this  somewhat  mechanical  duty.  Their  knowledge  of  the 
other  boys  is  more  intimate,  their  contact  with  them  more 
frequent,  than  the  master's  can  possibly  be  ;  and  it  is  for 
this  reason  that  prefects  may  be  used  to  deal  with  graver 
offences  in  the  school  or  in  the  house.  But  it  must  be 
understood  that  no  half-measures  in  this  direction  can  be 
successful.  Prefects  must  deal  with  ordinary  cases,  and 
not  merely  detect  and  report.  They  are  officers  of  the 
school,  and  must  not  be  degraded  to  the  position  of 
common  informers  even  to  avoid  the  risk  of  an  indiscreet 
handling  of  matters  which  might  benefit  by  the  inter- 
vention of  an  older  and  more  experienced  man.  In 
practice,  the  method  of  giving  such  full  powers  and 
responsibilities  to  prefects — we  are  speaking  now  mainly 
of  those  schools  in  which  the  prefects  are  not  younger  than 
seventeen  or  eighteen — is  found  to  work  well.  Prefects  do 
work  with  tact  and  do  consult  with  the  Head  master  or  the 
House-master  when  they  feel  that  satisfactory  treatment  of 
the  case  is  beyond  their  personal  or  official  power.  But, 
when  the  prefects'  duty  is  held  to  be  merely  that  of  report- 
ing names  of  offenders  to  be  punished  by  one  who  is 
in  equal  authority  over  the  offender  and  the  informer, 
then  such  cooperation  is  unusual  and  is,  indeed,  hardly  to 
be  expected. 

Let  each  prefect,  then,  have  full  authority  in  matters  of 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       191 

the  conduct  of  the  younger  boys;  and  in  matters  of  life 
and  morals,  either  let  the  whole  body  of  prefects  have 
authority  to  punish,  and  let  each  individual  prefect  act  in 
consultation  with  that  body,  which  should,  in  cases  of 
exceptional  difficulty,  bring  the  matter  before  the  Head- 
master ;  or,  let  it  be  clearly  understood  thai  the  prefects' 
duties  in  this  connexion  are  solely  to  exert  a  wholesome 
influence. 

4.  The  Head-master,  Assistant-masters,  a  nd  Prefects,  of 
any   school    compose    the   organization   for 

Organization  purposes  of  discipline  so  far  as  it  depends 
of  Non-person-  ,  ^  -    n  i     i 

al  Influences  :     upon   personal   command  or  influence ;    but 

there  are  other  than  directly  personal  in- 
fluences which  contribute  to  the  discipline  of  the  well- 
ordered  life  of  a  school-boy. 

Games  are  recognised  as    having  valuable   disciplinary 

effect,  and  the  organization  of  games  is, 
Games  ■  . 

therefore,    an    important    factor    in    school 

discipline. 

In    day-schools  the  first    problem  to   be  considered  is 

whether  games  should  be  made  compulsory  for  every  pupil 

who  is  not  excused  by  medical   certificate  as  physically 

unfit  for  them.     The  practice  of  making  games  compulsory 

is  undoubtedly  growing.     It  has  been  found  beneficial  in 

many    schools,    and    is   made    easier    in    'grant-earning' 

schools  by  the  sanction  of  the  Board  of  Education   for 

reckoning  attendance  at  "  organized  games  "  as  a  school 

attendance.     There  are  in  every  school,  whether  of  boys  or 

of  girls,  some  '  loafers,'  whose  distaste  for  active  exercise  is 

detrimental  to  their  own  health  and  to  their  subsequent 

efficiency  as   citizens.       The  distaste  arises    in  the   great 

majority  of  such  cases  either  from  lack  of  initiative  and 

consequent  inexperience  of  the  game  they  profess  to  dislike, 

jrom  self -consciousness  and  consequent  dread  of  ridiculous 


192       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

incapacity  on  the  playing  field,  or  as  a  result  of  sheer  in- 
dolence and  self-indulgence.  In  either  of  these  cases  a 
system  of  compulsory  games  is  useful.  In  the  first  case 
the  child  is  made  to  play,  and  discovers  the  enjoyment 
which  he  or  she  would  otherwise  miss  ;  in  the  second  case 
the  shy  child  finds  others  no  better  than  himself  and  fami- 
liarity with  the  experience  usually  reduces  the  self-con- 
sciousness ;  and  in  the  third  case  compulsory  play  is  an 
appropriate  and  wholesome  treatment  which  may  correct  a 
definite  and  dangerous  defect  of  character. 

In  the  organization  of  games  in  day-schools  there  are 
two  alternatives  in  common  current  use.    The 
*s  h\  school  may  be  classified  for  games  either  in 

'  vertical '  or  in  '  horizontal '  divisions.  By 
the  latter  system,  commoner  in  elementary  schools,  the 
cricket  or  football  teams  are  selected  from  the  several 
classes,  each  class  having  two  or  more  complete  teams.  In 
this  way,  boys  of  equal  age  play  and  practise  together,  and 
games  are  arranged  between  the  various  teams  of  one 
class,  with  occasional  matches  between  classes  of  approxi- 
mately equal  ages.  An  obvious  objection  is  that  the  same 
boys  remain  in  the  same  teams  practically  throughout  their 
school  career,  and  much  of  the  feeling  of  corporate  life  in 
the  school  is  lost.  By  the  principle  of  dividing  the  school 
'  vertically,'  older  and  younger  boys  are  distributed  in  all 
the  clubs.  The  organization  is  borrowed  from  that  which 
arises  naturally,  and  works  successfully,  in  boarding 
schools ;  and  the  wholesome  rivalry  between  houses  has 
suggested  the  division  of  a  day-school  into  clubs  which, 
even  there,  are  usually  called  '  Houses.'  Clifton,  Chelten- 
ham, and  other  schools  in  which  there  are  both  boarders 
and  day-boys,  keep  the  distinctive  name  of  each  of  the 
actual  boarding-houses  and  have  '  house-masters '  in  charge 
of  groups  of  day-boys,  who  belong  to  East  House,  West 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.  193 

House,  and  so  on,  according  to  the  distribution  of  their 
houses  in  the  town.  This  plan  is  found  to  be  very  satis- 
factory, and  has  been  applied  equally  well  in  day  schools 
where  there  are  no  real  houses  at  all.  Its  advantage  over 
the  '  horizontal '  division  is  that  boys  or  girls  have  oppor- 
tunities of  promotion  in  games  as  they  have  in  work. 
They  will  try  to  get  into  their  House  eleven  or  other 
representative  team,  and  the  matches  can  be  arranged 
between  large  and  equally  matched  clubs,  instead  of  being 
confined  to  classes  in  the  school  where  the  natural  pre- 
supposition, usually  justified  by  the  result,  is  that  the 
higher  class  wins  the  game. 

In  boarding  schools  the  House  system  operates  naturally, 
and  provides  an   organization  which  is  the 

in  Boarding  nucleus  of  all  non-academic  rivalry  or  corn- 
Schools  ;  ...  . 

petition  in  the  school.     Some  modifications 

of  natural  divisions  may  be  necessary,  as  in  the  case  where 

two  numerically  weak  houses  are  combined  against  single 

large  houses  or  other  pairs  of   weak   ones  ;    it  is  always 

less  satisfactory  when  such  combinations  have  to  be  made 

since  the  '  patriotism '  of  a  boy  for  the  combination  can 

never  rest  on  so  secure  a  footing,  nor  be  so  profitable,  as 

his  '  patriotic '  feeling  for  his  own  house. 

We  shall  have  occasion  to  recur  to  this  question  of 
house-patriotism  as  it  is  a  point  of  special  importance  in 
the  boarding  school. 

So  far  our  consideration  of  play  has  been  directed 
entirely  towards  that  kind  of  exercise  which 
Leisure  in  *s  corporate  and  organized,  and  is  therefore 

Boarding  recognised  officially   by  the  Board  of  Edu- 

c  00  s  '  cation  as  part  of  the  curriculum  of  the  day- 

school.  But,  in  considering  personal  discipline,  a  part  of 
life,  by  no  means  the  least  important,  is  that  in  which  we 
are  neither  working  nor  taking  regulated  exercise.     The 

M.  D.  S.  13 


194       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

employment  of  a  man's  or  of  a  child's  leisure  time  is 
probably  one  of  the  greatest  formative  iDnuences  on  his 
character  as  it  is  the  most  trustworthy  index  to  it. 

In  the  day  school  the  responsibility  for  the  use  of  leisure 
by  the  children  is  shared  with  the  home  authority,  and  will 
be  discussed  in  the  next  chapter. 

In  boarding  schools  the  question  of  the  occupation  of 
leisure  time  is  of  much  more   serious   importance.     The 
responsibility  in  this  case  is  not  shared  with  the  home,  and 
the  home  cannot  relieve  the  school  of  the  actual  labour  any 
more  than  it  can  of  the  responsibility.     The  training  of  a 
boy  or  girl  is  incomplete  if  this  part  of  teaching  be  neg- 
lected. A  child  must  learn  how  to  amuse  himself  effectively 
and  harmlessly,  and  it  is  the  business  of  the  House-masters 
or  -mistresses  to  teach  this  accomplishment.     A  common 
argument,    in   boys'    schools   at   least,   is   that   leisure   is 
difficult  to  provide   for ;  boys  get  into  mischief — "  Satan 
finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle  hands  to  do  " — therefore, 
cut  the   Gordian  knot  by  taking  good  care  that  the  boy 
gets  no  leisure.     We  have  even  heard  it  stated  by  a  master 
in  charge  of  a  large  house  of  an  important  school  that  his 
invariable  rule  is  that  if  boys  are  not  at  work  they  must 
be  playing  cricket  or  football,   or  else  eating  or  asleep. 
"  Then  they  can't  do  any  harm."     Perhaps  not,  but  how 
much  harm  may  not  this  system  do  them  ?    It  may  possibly, 
though   not  certainly,  protect  the  House  from  the  more 
obvious  dangers  arising  from   the   idleness    of   the  boys, 
while  they  are  still  in  the  house,  and  if  this  discreet  house- 
master could  arrange  that  his  boys  might  pass  straight  from 
the  school  to  a  lethal  chamber,  perhaps  they  would  not "  do 
much  harm"  after  they  left  his  fatherly  care;  but  when 
they  leave  school  they  become  in  some  degree  masters  of 
their  own  time.     At  the  universities,  and  to  a  less  extent 
in  business,  they  are  relieved  of  restraint,  they   are  not 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       l!>5 

compelled  to  spend  evenings  at  work  and  afternoons  at 
cricket,  aud  they  have  not  learned  any  rational  occupation 
for  their  free  waking  hours. 

What,  then,  can  a  House-master  do?  Speaking  quite 
broadly,  the  proper  occupation  of  leisure  is  the  pursuit  of 
Art  or  Nature  in  any  of  their  forms.  Literature,  music, 
painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  drama  or  the  study  of 
some  aspect  of  nature — plants,  insects,  rocks  or  whatever 
it  may  be  which  regards  nature  as  a  real  concrete  thing, 
not  as  a  mere  subject  for  laboratory  dissection — are  all 
profitable  and  restful  occupations  for  those  who  are  not 
professionally  engaged  with  them.  Boys  readily  follow 
one  or  other  of  them  either  in  their  pure  or  applied 
forms.  Wood-carving,  clay-modelling,  photography,  fret- 
work, examination  of  old  churches  and  other  buildings, 
search  for  and  study  of  various  natural  phenomena, 
are  all  attractive  to  bovs.  For  those  to  whom  none  of 
these  appeal  directly,  there  is  usually  a  fascination  in 
constructing  or  manipulating  model  engines,  electrical  or 
otherwise,  while  for  some  boys  surveying  and  out-door 
engineering  are  attractive.  Surely  this  is  a  sufficient 
catalogue  of  occupations  to  fill  the  leisure  time  of  bovs, 
even  if  the  severity  of  compulsory  cricket  were  relaxed. 
But  it  is  not  enough  for  the  House-master  to  catalogue 
possibilities  of  occupation.  He  must  suggest,  encourage 
and  assist.  In  this  matter  he  can  be  greatly  aided  by  his 
prefects.  In  one  school,  at  least,  the  prefects  are  given 
charge  of  this  important  part  of  the  work,  and  are  found 
to  be  of  great  service  in  helping  and  stimulating  the 
younger  boys.  They  are  under  instructions  to  see  that 
a  hobby  begun  by  any  boy  is  persisted  in  for,  at  least,  a 
whole  term. 

In  every  art,  in  fact  in  every  study,  the  ordinary  boy  or 
girl  is  a  smatterer.     A  point  is  reached  where  the  charm 


196       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

of  novelty  wears  off,  where  self-improvement  becomes 
more  difficult,  and  the  child,  left  to  itself,  drops  or  changes 
its  hobby.  It  is  here  that  a  sympathetic  House-master 
or  a  prefect  can  do  more  by  a  word  or  two  of  praise  or 
encouragement,  or  by  more  active  help  if  he  have  the 
technical  skill,  than  the  regular  teacher  of  the  subject  can 
do  by  months  of  drudgery.  In  any  case  it  should  be  his 
care  to  provide  some,  at  least,  of  the  material  for  such 
occupation,  and  all  the  personal  influence  and  energy  he 
can  command,  to  lead  boys  to  the  recognition  that  horse- 
play has  its  limitations  as  a  recreation  for  sane  beings, 
and  that  other  pursuits  are  really  enjoyable  substitutes  for 
it.  But,  for  all  that,  he  need  not  be  a  stilted  pedant  nor  a 
long-haired  dilettante,  and  he  will  lose  nothing  in  dignity, 
affection,  or  respect,  if  he  can  join  spontaneously  in  an 
occasional  '  rag  '  or  romp  with  the  junior  boys  of  the  house, 
provided  that  his  house-prefects  have  not  very  strong  views 
on  the  matter ! 

An  important  detail  of    school   boarding-houses    often 
receives  insufficient  attention  from  those  who 

Comfort  liave  cliai'ge  of  them-     Tlie  civilising  effect 

of  material  comforts  is  frequently  over- 
looked. If  boys  are  expected  to  spend  all  their  leisure  in 
a  '  day-room '  furnished  with  a  bare  table  and  forms, 
supplemented  perhaps  with  a  few  desks  of  the  pattern 
used  in  the  class-rooms,  there  is  no  obvious  reason  for 
restraint  or  refinement  of  behaviour.  If  the  chairs  be  of 
coarse  wood  and  of  the  most  vulgar  pattern,  boys  will  feel 
little  hesitation  in  indulging  in  horseplay  that  results  in 
their  wreck.  But  if  the  room  have  an  appearance  of  com- 
fort, if  the  table  have  a  cover  and  the  chairs  be  sightly  and 
comfortable,  boys  will  usually,  for  their  own  sake,  check 
such  disorder  as  is  likely  to  lead  to  damage  of  furniture. 
The  appearance  of  the  play-room  affects  also  very  seriously 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OK    THE    SCHOOL.        H'7 

the   whole  attitude   of   the  boy's   mind   towards   school. 

Why  should  ;i  boy  from  decent  home  surroundings  do  his 
work  in  an  unattractive  or  squalid  class-room,  and  then  be 
expected  to  spend  his  leisure  time  in  bad  weather  in  a  room 
less  comfortably  furnished  than  a  railway  waiting-room? 
This  is  the  fate  of  most  of  the  junior  boys  in  nearly  all  of 
our  best  Public  Schools,  and  that  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
boys  do  show  their  appreciation  of  better  surroundings 
and  their  desire  for  them,  by  the  fastidious  care  with  which 
they  furnish  or  decorate  their  private  studies  when  their 
position  in  the  school  or  house  entitles  them  to  occupy 
or  to  share  them. 

There  is,  however,  an  opposite  danger  which  is  not  alto- 
gether avoided  in  some  schools  of  the  more  expensive  type. 
It  is  sometimes  overlooked  by  schoolmasters  and  by  parents 
that  there  is  a  real  risk  of  producing  the  enervating  effects 
of  luxury  by  the  sumptuous  conditions  which  obtain  in 
some  schools  or  school-houses.  The  expensiveness  of  games, 
of  hobbies,  and  even  of  babies'  toys,  is  increasing  so  rapidly 
that  children  are  in  some  danger  of  losing,  or  of  not  acquir- 
ing, a  just  sense  of  proportion  in  the  matter  of  the  relative 
importance  of  essentials  and  non-essentials ;  and  there  is 
an  additional  risk  of  children  forming  habitudes  of  selfish- 
ness and  self-indulgence  if  their  physical  comfort  be  studied 
in  everv  detail. 

5.  Finally,  there  is  that  all-powerful  factor  in  the  discip- 
linary organization  of  the  school  which,  as  we 
one  o  the        have  seen,1  is  to  a  certain  extent  independent 
of  headmaster  and  staff,   and  even   of  any 
individual  boy-officers  or  body  of  boys.     This  is  the  ethos  of 
the  school,  the  general  attitude  likely  to  be  adopted  by  any 
representative  boys  of  the  school  towards  questions  of  con- 
duct whether  trivial  or  serious.     It  is  commonly  spoken  of 

1  See  pp.  143-148. 


198       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

as  the  '  tone '  of  a  school,  and  though  it  is  a  very  complex 
and  a  very  intangible  quality,  yet  it  is  sufficiently  potent  to 
enable  us  to  distinguish,  after  very  short  acquaintance,  the 
product  of  one  school  from  the  product  of  another.  There 
is  a  recognised  type  of  Wykehamist,  Harrovian  or  Etonian, 
and  it  would  be  unusual  to  make  a  mistake  in  assigning  to 
the  right  quarter  any  young  man  who  has  recently  left 
either  of  these  schools.  Clifton  and  Cheltenham  would 
not  usually  be  confused,  nor,  to  compare  day-boys,  would 
the  products  of  St.  Paul's,  City  of  London  and  Merchant 
Taylors'.  Nor  again  can  there  be  much  possibility  of 
mistaking  a  boy  who  comes  from  any  one  of  these  for 
one  who  has  been  educated  at  a  small  provincial  secondary 
school. 

As  the  '  Public  School  boy  '  is  recognised  and  distin- 
guished, as  he  can  be  classified  on  inspection  as  coining 
from  a  particular  school,  and  as  any  person  familiar  with 
that  school  could  probably  say  with  reasonable  accuracy 
which  master's  house  he  was  at,  it  follows  that  there  is 
undoubtedly  a  brand  or  stamp  that  each  school  and  each 
community  puts  upon  its  members.  This  is  the  factor 
which,  more  than  all  else,  directs  the  conduct  and  moulds 
the  character  of  the  boys  who  come  under  its  influence.  In 
boarding  schools  this  ethos  is  the  most  fundamental  element, 
but  even  in  day  schools  it  is  of  immense  importance.  In- 
deed, in  them  it  is,  relatively  to  the  direct  personal  influence 
of  the  masters,  of  even  greater  weight  than  in  boarding 
schools  ;  since  in  the  latter  the  personal  intercourse  is  more 
intimate  and  more  constant.  It  affects  general  behaviour 
in  public  places ;  it  is  the  attitude  of  the  majority  of  the 
school  towards  a  boy  who  is  noisy  or  otherwise  selfish  in  his 
use  of  trains,  towards  a  boy  who  smokes,  towards  a  boy  who 
lies  or  is  dishonest  without  discovery  by  the  master.  It 
concerns  the  attitude  of  the  school  towards  tale-bearing 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       19'. » 

or  sneaking,  and  the  general  relation  of  the   boys  to  the 

masters. 

Much  can  be  clone  by  the  masters  to  improve  or  to  encour- 
age the  tone  of  the  school.     The  essential  feature  of  the 
ethos  of  any  community  is  its  dependence  upon  suggestion  ; 
it  is  the  effect  of  corporate  suggestion  on  individual  thought 
and  action.     Direct  precept  has   little  to  do  with  it,  and 
prohibition  of  any  action  by  a  master  may  affect  the  con- 
duct of  an  individual,  but  will  not  influence  the  tone  of  the 
school.     We   remember   a   case  in  which  a  schoolmaster 
wished  to  improve  the  tone  of  his  class  in  the  matter  of 
'  sneaking.'     A   boy    had   just    made  a   complaint   about 
another  boy  by  name,  and  the  master's  only  reply  was,  "  If 
I  had  sneaked  about  a  boy  like  that  when  I  was  at  school 
I  should  have  been  kicked  all  round  the  playground."     The 
practice  of  sneaking  which  had  been  common  in  that  school 
died  suddenly  in  that  form,  and  disappeared  very  rapidly 
from  the  whole  school. 

The  consideration  of  the  tone  of  a  school  leads  us,  in  its 
connexion  with  boarding  schools,  to  touch  upon  the  im- 
portant question  of  esprit  de  corps.  In  day  schools  the 
matter  is  simple,  as  it  involves  merely  loyalty,  or  '  patriot- 
ism '  as  boys  prefer  to  call  it,  to  the  school.  It  requires 
that  boys  shall  be  loyal  in  act,  as  well  as  in  word,  and  the 
reputation  of  the  school  is  often  among  boys  a  powerful 
motive  for  right  action.  In  this  connexion  it  may  be 
strongly  urged  that  the  authorities  of  every  school,  whether 
elementary  or  secondary,  should  insist  on  all  boys  wearing 
a  distinctive  school  cap.  By  this  simple  means  every  boy 
is  at  all  times  entrusted  with  his  share  of  the  good  name  of 
the  school ;  and  if  he  be  reminded  of  this  from  time  to 
time — for  his  faults  are  often  those  of  thoughtlessness 
— the  natural  chivalry  of  the  boy  is  exercised  with  the  best 
effect. 


200       DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL. 

But  in  boarding  schools  the  matter  is  complex,  as  there 
is  a  divided  allegiance,  or  rather  an  allegiance 
School-feeling    which  is  sub-divided.      There   is  the   boy's 
feeling-.  loyalty  to  his  own    school   in   rivalry   with. 

other  schools,  and  in  addition  there  is  a 
loyalty  to  his  own  House  in  rivalry  with  other  houses  in  the 
same  school.  To  a  less  extent  this  may  be  found  in  day 
schools  organized  for  games  on  the  House  system.  Now, 
there  is  a  strong  feeling  among  many  schoolmasters  that 
this  sub-division  of  the  natural  allegiance  is  a  source  of 
weakness  to  the  general  sentiment  of  patriotism  to  the 
school ;  and  we  do,  in  fact,  find  many  schools  where  house 
matches  arouse  much  keener  interest  and  partisanship  than 
the  school  matches  of  the  first  fifteen  or  the  first  eleven. 
But  is  this  state  of  affairs  wholly  undesirable  ?  The  school 
is  a  large  organization,  imperfectly  known  by  the  individual 
boy,  and  brought  into  comparison  at  rare  intervals  in  the 
fields  of  sport  or  scholarship  or  conduct  with  other  large 
organizations  of  which  the  individual  boy  knows  practically 
nothing.  His  adverse  opinion  of  other  schools,  nay,  even 
his  good  opinion  of  his  own,  is  based  on  tradition  and 
prejudice  supported  by  one-sided  and  imperfect  knowledge. 
It  is  an  emotion  which  cannot  easilv  bear  fruit  in  action, 
and  of  which  the  reasonableness  cannot  readily  be  tested 
by  the  immediate  comparison  of  his  own  school  with  the 
merits  and  defects — unknown  to  him — of  several  others. 
Again,  it  is  apt  to  make  the  boy  as  well  as  his  school 
ridiculous,  if  the  only  possible  reply  to  his  enthusiastic 

"There's  no  school  like "  be  "Thank  heaven  for 

that ! " 

Now  these  objections  do  not  hold  with  regard  to 
strong  house-feeling.  A  boy's  pride  in  the  achievements 
of  his  house  must  be  sustained  by  fact.  He  can  only 
'  swagger '  about  the  merits  of  his  house  in  the  presence  of 


DISCIPLINARY    ORGANIZATION    OF    THE    SCHOOL.       201 

those  who  know  also  its  demerits  ;  and  boys  of  other 
houses,  when  they  cannot  agree  with  the  energetically 
urged  claim  of  a  rival  house,  do  not  politely  change  the 
conversation.  They  ask  pointedly  "  What  has  your  beastly 
house  done  ? '  The  young  patriot  is  thus  forcibly  reminded 
that  the  bubble  reputation  must  be  sought  at  the  cannon's 
mouth,  and  not  by  waving  flags  and  singing 

"  Wo  don't  want  to  fight, 
But,  by  Jingo,  if  we  do . " 


From  the  question  of  others,  oft  repeated,  "  What  has 
your  house  done  ?  "  it  is  no  great  step,  as  the  boy  increases 
in  age  and  in  experience,  to  the  question  "  What  can  I  do 
for  my  house  ?  '  So,  instead  of  praising  extravagantly  a 
school  which  may  stink  in  the  nostrils  of  half  England,  he 
will,  in  the  desire  to  support  his  own  house,  consider  care- 
fully what  he  may  do  to  make  that  house  cleaner  or  more 
wholesome  ;  stronger  numerically  or  in  games  ;  wTiser  or 
more  distinguished  in  scholarship  ;  or,  at  least,  and  that  is 
much,  he  will  see  to  it  that  he  bring  no  discredit  upon  it 
either  by  unsavoury  conduct,  by  idleness  in  work,  or  by 
shirking  in  games. 

Thus  every  boy  may  be  brought  to  expend  conscious 
effort  on  the  betterment  of  his  own  small  community,  and 
the  larger  school  community  of  which  the  houses  are  com- 
ponent units  profits  by  individual  effort  which  may  be, 
and  often  is,  dissipated  by  being  directed  towards  too  wide 
and  vague  an  object.  This  personal  effort  is  a  profitable 
form  of  '  patriotism '  and  is  a  heavy  weight  in  the  balance 
in  the  perennial  controversy  as  to  house-feeling  as  opposed 
to  school-feeling. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


THE    RELATION    BETWEEN    THE    SCHOOL    AND 

THE    HOME. 

1 .  It  is   an  aphorism,  of ,  the  scholastic  profession  that 
"  boys  are  always  right,  masters  sometimes, 

the  Relation  *  Paren^s  never,"  and  though  this  does  not 
represent  actual  fact  it  does  unfortunately 
represent  the  habitual  attitude  which  many  schoolmasters, 
under  great  provocation,  have  taken  up  with  regard  to  the 
parents  of  the  children  in  their  charge.  Fortunately  also 
it  implies  that  they  are  prepared  to  judge  mercifully  in 
times  of  strained  relation  between  boys  and  themselves. 

The  schoolmaster  is  the  product  of  an  advanced  civilisa- 
tion. Education,  even  in  its  narrower  applications,  is  the 
duty  shared,  in  primitive  races,  by  the  family  and  the 
whole  tribe.  It  is  the  father  who,  after  his  day's 
hunting  is  over,  must  sit  at  the  door  of  his  tent  and 
instruct  his  sons  in  the  gentle  art  of  breaking  heads.  The 
mother  instructs  her  daughters  in  cunning  handicrafts,  in 
the  making  of  earthenware  pots,  and  the  brewing  therein 
of  intoxicating  drinks ;  the  husband,  when  lie  has  duly 
purchased  her,  undertakes  to  teach  his  wife,  with  a  raw- 
hide thong,  the  duties  of  her  new  rank.  The  Boer  father 
is  said  to  give  his  son  a  gun  and  one  cartridge  in  the  early 
morning,  and  to  chastise  him  with  considerable  emphasis 

202 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  J<»3 

if  he  do  not  return  with  sufficient  material  for  the  family 
breakfast.  But  the  citv  clerks  of  civilisation  are  apt  to 
give  their  sons  neither  the  cartridge  nor  the  thrashing,  and 
still  to  expect  the  breakfast.  The  conditions  of  modern 
life  and  employment  make  it  impossible,  and  even,  as  we 
have  seen,  undesirable  for  a  man  or  a  woman  to  attend 
adequately  to  the  whole  education  of  the  children  '  ;  and  so 
this  duty,  the  most  important  natural  duty  of  parentship, 
is  to  some  extent  delegated  to  those  who  make  it  their 
profession  to  undertake  such  part  of  these  function's  as  the 
parents  are  unable  to  perform.  Mischief  arises  when  either 
parents  or  schoolmasters  incline  to  the  belief  that  it  is 
possible  for  the  parent  to  delegate  to  the  school  the  whole 
duty  of  education. 

In  many  families  the  miserable  routine  is  this :  in  their 
childhood  and  infancy  the  parent  regards  his 
through  children  as  amusing  playthings;  when  it  is 

"  time  for  them  to  learn  something  "  he  packs 
them  off  to  school,  (for  which  in  these  days  of  minimising 
parental  responsibility  by  legislation  he  often  does  not  even 
make  the  small  personal  sacrifice  of  a  direct  money  pay- 
ment,) and  still  indulges  them  or  ignores  them,  according 
to  his  temperament,  at  home;  then,  when  they  are  old 
enough  to  leave  school,  he  is  disappointed  to  find  them 
undisciplined  in  character,  as  little  capable  of  self-sacrifice 
or  strenuous  effort  as  he  is  himself,  and  even  then,  when  it 
is  still  perhaps  not  too  late  to  influence  them,  his  only 
resource  is — to  grumble  at  the  school.  Having  provided 
them  with  neither  the  gun  of  home  training  nor  the 
cartridge  of  his  own  contribution  to  their  efforts,  and 
being  fatuously  disappointed  that  they  have  not  brought 
home  their  proper  contribution  to  the  family  life,  he 
does  not  even  then   administer   the  '  sjambok '    of  home 

1  See  pp.  119-121. 


204  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

discipline  but  grumbles  that  other  people  have  neglected 
his  duty. 

It  is  little  wonder,  then — for  the  number  of  parents  of 
this  kind  is  very  large  especially  at  the  upper  and  lower 
extremes  of  the  social  scale — if  schoolmasters  are  inclined 
to  assert  in  moments  of  depression  or  irritation  that  parents 
are  never  right. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  form  in  which  parents  fail  to 
maintain  a  right  relation  with  the  school. 
Interference  ■  There  is  another,  far  less  culpable  but  possi- 
bly more  irritating  to  the  schoolmaster  who 
is  honourably  doing  his  best  for  his  boys,  which  proceeds 
not  from  moral  but  from  intellectual  weakness  on  the  part 
of  parents.  It  is  the  unreasonable  interference  with  the 
proper  work  of  the  school.  In  describing  the  foolish 
parent  in  his  more  culpable  form  we  have  advisedly  used 
the  masculine  pronoun  throughout,  but  in  this  other  matter 
we  must  reluctantly  attach  the  chief  blame  to  mothers. 
It  is  perhaps,  a  constitutional  difference  between  a  man's 
and  a  woman's  command  that  men  can  delegate  authority 
and  women  cannot.  A  man  gives  his  orders  and  criticizes 
the  result  of  the  work ;  a  woman  gives  an  order  as  to  the 
result,  and  then  directs  the  work  during  its  progress  in 
every  detail.  If  we  consider  in  addition  the  intense  solici- 
tude of  maternal  love  it  becomes  apparent  that  ay  hen  it  is 
combined  with  this  inability  to  delegate  authority,  inter- 
ference with  the  relation  between  the  boy  and  the  school  is 
more  likely  to  come  from  the  mother  than  from  the  father. 
"The  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  a  widow'  is 
recognisable  in  every  school  at  a  glance,  and  the  "  hen 
with  one  chick '!  is  apt  to  be  the  greatest  trial  of  the 
Head-master. 

But  the  fact  that  these  two  types  of  parent  are  common, 
and  perhaps  even  in  a  majority,  does  not  justify  even  the 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  205 

good  schoolmaster  in  regarding  all  parents  as  a  necessary 
evil.  He  must  not  be  embittered  by  bis  difficulties  in  Ibis 
connexion  any  more  than  by  the  other  difficulties  of  the 
work  which  he  has  set  himself  to  face  and  to  overcome. 
He  must  not,  as  a  result  of  such  bitterness,  blame  the  home 
on  the  one  hand  for  his  own  dereliction  of  duty,  nor 
dispute  on  ihe  other  hand  the  right  of  parents  to  some 
interest  in  the  welfare  of  their  children  and  to  some  direc- 
tion or  control  of  their  progress.  It  should  be  recognised 
by  both  parties  that,  as  the  existence  of  a  son  presupposes 
a  certain  relation  to  his  parents,  and  as  the  existence  of  a 
school-boy  presupposes  a  certain  relation  to  his  school,  so 
where  the  son  and  the  school-boy  are  identical  he  becomes 
as  it  were,  a  mathematical  mean  which  involves  a  relation 
between  the  school  and  the  parents. 

Further,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  bad  schools  are 
no    less    possible    than    bad    homes — some 

compft^lity.     Parents  would  say  tlieJ  are  eveu  more  Se- 
quent.    Certainly    no   one   who    knows   the 

facts  can  denv  the  existence  of  bad  schools,  schools  Avhose 
tone  or  whose  teaching  or  both  fall  lamentably  below  a 
decent  standard.  But  often  such  a  feeling  on  the  part  of 
parents  arises  less  from  actual  badness  in  the  school  or  even 
from  stupidity  in  the  parent,  than  from  a  want  of  harmony 
between  what  the  school  is  doin^  for  the  bov  and  the  re- 
suits  which  the  parent  wishes  to  attain.  The  father  does 
not  "  see  the  use  "  of  what  the  boy  has  to  learn  ;  the  mother 
thinks  the  government  unduly  meddlesome ;  no  explana- 
tion is  sought,  and  consequently,  if  there  be  no  active 
opposition  between  home  and  school,  there  is  no  active 
cooperation  of  the  two.  The  parent  too  often  regards  the 
State  recognition  of  a  school  as  '  efficient '  as  carrying  an 
implication  that  it  will  be  efficient  for  his  boy :  he  does 
not   recognise    that    different    individuals    need    different 


206  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

educational  treatment,  and  so  he  does  not  feel  it  incumbent 
on  him  to  make  any  personal  enquiry  into  the  character  and 
aims  of  the  school  to  which  he  sends  his  boy.  He  sends 
him  to  the  nearest — or  to  the  cheapest — school,  and  then 
grumbles  that  the  school  is  not  doing  good  work.  The 
worthy  father  and  the  worthy  schoolmaster  thus  are  often 
in  relations  which,  if  not  positively  strained,  are  certainly 
not  those  of  that  sympathy  without  which  home  and  school 
cannot  do  their  proper  work  in  the  education  of  the  child. 

2.  All  human  intercourse  is  compounded  of  relations, 
and  the  basis  of  all  such  relations  is  the 
School  °f  principle  of  "  give  and  take."     Each  of  them 

would  be  a  perfectly  harmonious  relation  if 
the  parties  to  it  could  observe  the  second  '  Great  Com- 
mandment ' — "  Thou  shalt  love  thv  neighbour  as  thyself." 
But  since,  through  ignorance  of  school  conditions,  parents 
may  sometimes  be  unable  to  manifest  their  perfect  love  of 
the  schoolmaster  to  his  satisfaction ;  and  since  school- 
masters, through  lack  of  consideration  or  forgetfulness, 
are  apt  to  dissemble  their  love  for  parents,  it  may  be  well 
here  to  set  forth  some  particulars  of  the  giving  and  taking 
in  this  relation  by  showing  what  each  party  must  give, 
since  we  may  safely  assume  that  he  will  take  110  less  than 
is  given. 

We  have  already  alluded  to  the  difference  of  responsi- 
bility of  the  day  school  and  the  boarding  school,  and  since 
this  difference  arises  from  the  greater  or  less  degree  in 
which  the  school  shares  responsibility  with  the  home,  it 
follows  that  the  relation  of  the  home  to  the  day  school 
must  differ  somewhat  from  its  relation  to  the  boarding- 
school.  The  difference  is  one  of  degree  rather  than  of 
principle,  and  it  will  probably  suffice  if  we  deal  first  with 
the  relation  of  the  home  to  the  day  school,  and  then  add 
those  special  details  which  the  boy's  residence  away  from 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  207 

home  involves.  The  details  applicable  to  the  day  school 
only  can  easily  be  omitted  by  readers  who  are  mainly 
interested  in  boarding-  schools. 

In  the  relation  between  the  school  and  the  home,  as  in 
almost  all  human  relations,  much  is  gained 
with" Parents  •  ^y  making  the  relation  as  personal  as  pos- 
sible. If  the  parent  form  an  estimate  of 
the  character  of  the  teacher  based  entirely  upon  the  child's 
picturesque  account  of  the  exceptional  incidents  of  the 
class-room — and  a  child  seldom  mentions  or  even  considers 
the  events  of  the  day  that  are  not  exceptional — it  cannot  be 
wondered  at  if  there  be  little  human  sympathy  between  the 
two,  and  little  predisposition  on  the  part  of  the  parent  to 
second  the  efforts  or  to  support  the  authority  of  so  eccentric 
a  person  as  he  believes  the  teacher  to  be.  It  is,  therefore, 
the  duty  of  the  school  as  well  as  of  the  parents  to  make 
opportunities  of  social  intercourse.  A  father  can  ask  his 
son's  schoolmaster  to  "  come  and  smoke  a  pipe  with  him  ' 
in  the  evening ;  a  mother  can  invite  her  daughter's  mistress 
to  the  informal  intercourse  of  tea  after  school.  The  teachers 
on  their  part  should  as  a  rule  regard  it  as  a  duty,  willingly 
undertaken,  to  accept  such  advances  from  parents,  whether 
they  are  or  are  not  in  a  position  to  return  such  hospitality. 
Above  all  must  there  be  no  taint  of  snobbishness  on  either 
side  in  such  intercourse.  Whatever  be  the  social  positions 
of  the  teacher  and  the  parent  relatively,  they  are,  in  their 
relation  through  the  child,  on  common  ground.  They  are 
both,  either  by  nature  or  by  profession,  in  loco  parentis  to 
the  same  individual.  Neither  is  conferring  a  favour  upon 
the  other  in  offering  or  in  accepting  hospitality ;  each  is 
simply  adopting  a  conventional  means  of  making  an  abso- 
lutely necessary  acquaintance  with  a  view  to  a  perfectly 
cordial  friendship  based  upon  their  common  affection  for 
the  child  and  interest  in  its  welfare. 


208  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

Iii  cases  where  the  parents  do  not  take  the  first  step  the 
teacher  should  try  to  do  so.  An  opportunity  is  afforded  at 
once  if  a  child  be  absent  through  illness.  Even  in  those 
cases  where  social  etiquette  would  make  it  difficult  for  a 
teacher  to  call  on  the  parents  without  a  definite  reason,  no 
offence  can  be  taken,  and  much  kindly  feeling  may  be 
aroused,  by  this  exhibition  of  practical  interest  in  the  child. 
Parents  gossip  about  a  school  no  less  than  schoolmasters 
gossip  about  their  boys,  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  the 

report  that  "Mr.  must  be  rather  'nice'  because  he 

took  the  trouble  to  call  and  enquire  about  Tommy 
when  he  had  influenza  "  may  spread  to  several  families, 
and  so  improve  the  harmony  of  the  relation  between  those 
homes  and  the  school,  and,  incidentally,  may  greatly  facili- 
tate Mr. 's  work. 

Parents  who  do  not  give  informal  invitations  to  the 
teachers,  and  whose  children  sturdily  refuse  to  fall  ill,  may 
possibly  be  induced  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  school 
staff  if  the  school  invite  them  so  to  do  and  have  periodical 
"parents'  nights"  with  the  express  intention — possibly 
stated  in  the  invitation — of  giving  parents  the  opportunity 
of  making  the  personal  acquaintance  of  their  children's 
teachers.  Part-songs  by  a  selected  choir  of  the  children,  a 
few  musical  contributions  bv  various  members  of  the  staff, 
and  any  other  additions  to  the  programme  of  which  the 
resources  of  the  school  are  capable,  will  provide  the  con- 
ventional excuse,  if  one  be  needed,  for  the  gathering ;  but 
it  must  be  carefully  arranged  that  the  evening's  business 
does  not  become  merely  a  school  concert.  Intervals  be- 
tween the  musical  items  should  be  long,  and  the  room 
(presumably  the  school  hall)  should  be  arranged  so  that 
the  teachers,  who  are  the  hosts,  may  be  able  to  circulate 
freely  among  their  guests  and  not,  like  stewards  at  a 
concert,  merely  marshal  them  into  rows  of  seats, 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  209 

It  is,  further,  the  duty  of  schoolmasters  fco  solicit,  the 
help  of  parents  in  matters  of  home-work,  or 

Parents-0  °*  ^'1<J  con<luct   of   children   out   of   school. 

Any  device  which  leads  to  the  realisation  of 
the  fact  that  masters  and  parents  are  fellow-workers  in  the 
interests  of  the  child  will  be  helpful  in  the  establishment 
of  a  cordial  and  useful  relation;  and  this  idea  should  guide 
both  parents  and  schoolmasters  in  the  expression  of  their 
wishes  to  one  another.  Letters  which  pass  between  the 
school  and  the  home  are  much  too  apt  to  take  the  form  <>!' 
complaints.  There  is  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  parents 
to  regard  the  school  as  an  institution  which  is  hostile  in 
purpose  to  the  child,  and  from  which  the  child  must  be 
defended  by  frequent  and  angry  remonstrance.  To  this 
kind  of  letter  the  schoolmaster  is  inclined  to  reply  that  the 
parent  should  "  mind  his  own  business,'1  which  is  precisely 
what  he  is  doing  if  his  assumption  is  correct.  The  school 
must  admit  the  right  of  the  parent  to  feel  and  to  express 
interest  in  his  children,  and  in  communications  with  the 
parents  should  make  that  interest  the  basis  of  operations. 
In  enlisting  the  cooperation  of  parents  in  the  matter,  for 
example,  of  home-work,  it  is  easy  to  give  offence  by  a  tone 
of  complaint  about  the  child's  or  the  parents'  alleged  neglect 
of  duty ;  but  just  as  easy  and  very  desirable  is  it  to  put 
the  request  upon  the  ground  of  the  common  interests  of 
the  school,  the  parent,  and  ultimately  of  the  child.  In  the 
latter  case  the  desired  cooperation  is  usually  secured ;  in 
the  former  an  undesirable  hostility  is  frequently  created. 
The  day  school,  since  it  is  entrusted  with  the  intellectual 
and,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  moral  training 
of  the  child,  must  obviously  be  prepared  to 
give  periodical  accounts  of  its  trust  in  precisely  the  same 
way  as  a  body  entrusted  with  public  moneys  must  be 
prepared  to  publish  a  periodical  balance  sheet.     In  other 

M.  D.  S.  14 


210  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

words,  it  must  give  the  parents,  as  being  the  persons 
interested,  periodical  reports  of  their  children's  progress. 
4  And  these  reports,  it  is  unfortunately  not  unnecessary  to 
add,  should  be  truthful  and  ample.  They  should  not 
develop  into  a  weekly  or  fortnightly  routine  by  which  g.  and 
v.g.  are  scattered  promiscuously  over  a  printed  form,  with 
the  intention  of  keeping  the  parents  in  a  good  temper  and 
of  staving  off  undesirable  interference.  But  even  this  form 
of  report  is  better  than  nothing,  in  virtue  of  its  power  of 
compelling  parents  to  take  at  least  that  much  notice  of 
their  children's  school  progress  as  is  involved  in  writing 
their  initials  on  the  report  card  every  week  or  fortnight. 
But  reports  on  the  children  need  not  be  so  frequent  and 
should  be  much  more  definite  than  this. 

One  of  their  most  valuable  functions  is  that  they  should 
give  the  class  masters  or  mistresses  the  opportunity  of 
'  taking  stock '  in  the  case  of  each  child ;  of  considering 
the  child's  special  strength  and  weakness  and  the  use  that 
they  have  made  of  his  capacities,  whether  his  strength  has 
been  developed  and  his  weakness  decreased ;  and  whether 
their  favourable  or  unfavourable  view  of  any  child's  work 
or  conduct  is  based  upon  fact  or  upon  a  prejudice  which  it 
is  the  teacher's  most  difficult  duty  to  minimise.  Certain 
children  who  have  an  irresistible  charm  of  manner  often 
suffer  severely  for  it  because  their  instructors,  in  all 
honesty  of  purpose,  are  blinded  to  their  weaknesses,  and 
when  these  are  brought  forcibly  to  light  in  examinations, 
it  is  charitably  assumed  that  the  cause  must  be  ill-health 
or  nervousness,  and  they  are  promoted  in  the  school  on 
the  strength  of  their  term's  marks  or  reports.  The  charm 
which  was  irresistible  at  ten  may  be  modified  to  the  point 
of  imperceptibility  at  sixteen,  and  in  any  case  the  profit 
that  the  child  might  have  derived  from  his  schooling  has 
been  minimised.     But  if  the  report  be  honestly  treated  by 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  211 

each  teacher  as  a  balance  sheet  for  each  child,  the  vivacious 
and  lovable  manner  will  not  find  its  way  among  the  child's 
assets  as  definite  mathematical  or  literary  ability,  but  will 
be  duly  credited  to  him  in  its  proper  compartment  of 
manners  or  conduct.  The  mathematical  and  literary  deficit 
will  be  coldly  audited,  and  vigorous  efforts  will  be  made  to 
"push  the  business  "  in  those  departments  before  next  audit. 

It  must  not  be  understood  that  the  foregoing  remarks 
are  intended  to  be  a  condemnation  of  the  system  of  weekly 
reports.  Where  these  are  conscientiously  prepared  by  the 
teachers,  and  rightly  regarded  by  the  parents,  they  are  of 
great  value  especially  in  those  elementary  schools  where 
the  parents  are  not  very  familiar  with  scholastic  practices 
and  are  likely  to  profit  more  by  the  frequency  of  the 
report  as  a  stimulus  to  interest  in  and  cooperation  with 
the  school,  than  they  are  by  the  fullness  of  the  report  as  a 
guide  to  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  their  own  duties 
and  its  efforts. 

Such  reports  are  most  conveniently  made  on  a  card  in 
which  the  first  column  gives  the  weekly  dates  for  a  quarter 
or  a  term,  the  second  the  number  of  absences,  the  third 
the  number  of  late  comings,  the  fourth  the  general 
estimate  of  conduct  and  work.  All  this  can  be  filled  up 
by  the  individual  children  in  class  at  the  teacher's  dicta- 
tion and  takes  but  a  few  minutes.  Moreover,  this 
publicity  given  to  the  teacher's  estimate  of  the  conduct 
and  work  of  each  child  is  a  great  guarantee  against  the 
influence  of  favouritism,  and  a  powerful  incentive  to  effort 
on  the  part  of  those  who  are  estimated  as  unsatisfactory. 
Then  follow  columns  for  the  initials  of  the  class  teacher 
and  the  parents.  Such  reports  when  taken  seriously  by 
the  teacher  have  been  known  to  have  most  beneficial  effects. 

But  in  cases  where  the  weekly  report  alone  is  in  use,  a 
careful  teacher  will  do  well  to  spend  some  hours  at  least  of 


212  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

private  cogitation  at  longer  intervals  in  summarising  his 
weekly  impressions,  and  in  comparing  them  with  results 
of  written  tests  or  examinations  ;  and  this  with  especial 
reference  to  those  children  for  whom  he  has  a  pronounced 
liking  or  antipathy.  The  effectiveness  of  any  system  of 
reports  depends  mainly  upon  the  degree  of  intelligence 
and  honesty  with  which  they  are  written  and  received,  and 
therefore,  if  the  right  relation  between  home  and  school  is 
to  be  maintained  in  this  respect,  the  master  must  report 
candidly  and  the  parent  must  understand  literally.  The 
master  should  resist  the  strong  temptation  to  write  pithy 
epigrams,  and  the  parent  be  slow  to  take  offence  at  state- 
ments about  his  child  which  are  made  in  all  sincerity  for 
no  other  purpose  than  for  the  child's  welfare. 

The  purpose  of  reports  is  to  quicken  the  interest  and  to 
secure  the  cooperation  of  the  parent  in  the  work  that  the 
school  is  doing  for  him  and  for  his  children,  and  it  is  the 
parent's  duty  to  accord  that  interest  and  cooperation  by 
treating  the  report  on  his  child  as  a  matter  of  consequence, 
by  acting  upon  the  tenour  of  the  report  in  such  matters  as 
praise,  blame,  entertainments  or  pocket-money,  and  by 
consulting  with  the  school  authorities  if  there  is  any  point 
upon  which  he  desires  fuller  information  or  upon  which 
his  opinion  is  greatly  at  variance  with  that  expressed  in  the 
report. 

Brief  mention  may  here  be  made  of  a  point  in  which 

m       ~    ,  some  schools  are  not  sufficiently  considerate. 

Text-Books;       „        ,      ,  .     .      ,.,,    n   .  ..        .1  j 

JMo  school  is  justified  111  putting  the  parents 

to  any  needless  expense  or  annoyance,  as  by  ill-considered 

selection  and  frequent  change  of  text-books,  in  those  cases 

where  the  books  are  paid  for  by  the  parents,  or  by  such 

arrangements  in  connexion  with  work  or  games  as  would 

be  inconvenient  in  the  majority  of  the  homes  from  which 

the  pupils  are  drawn. 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  'J  13 

Day  schools  should  cooperate  with  the  home  in  the 
matter  of  the  occupation  of  their  pupils' 
of^?sure^  leisure  time.  Here  the  responsibility  rests 
primarily  on  the  home,  though  the  school 
can  and  should  perform  an  important  directive  function. 
If  the  home  generally  did  its  duty  in  this  respect  the 
school  would  specially  have  to  guard  against  encroaching 
too  much  on  its  functions,  and  against  making  social 
intercourse  too  small  in  amount,  by  completely  filling  up  a 
child's  spare  time.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  both  home 
and  school  commonly  neglect  this  function,  except  in 
so  far  as  the  school  demands  home- work.  And  that 
demand  does  not  teach  the  child  how  to  use  leisure, 
but  rather  secures  that  he  has  the  minimum  amount  of 
leisure  to  use.  In  secondary  day  schools  this  abuse  of 
home-work  is  often  a  serious  evil.  It  takes  up  so  much 
time  that  the  boy  has  leisure  neither  for  play,  nor  for 
necessary  social  intercourse,  nor  for  the  cultivation  of  a 
hobby ;  and  he  grows  up  as  an  aimless  person  with  narrow 
interests,  uncouth  manners,  and  uncultivated  tastes. 

The  formation  of  good  taste  and  good  manners,  the 
checking  of  bad  taste  and  bad  manners,  are  too  often 
regarded  by  the  school  as  being  "  the  parents'  affair,"  and 
parents  are  not  infrequently  heard  to  complain  (if  they 
interest  themselves  sufficiently  in  the  matter)  that  "  the 
schools  don't  seem  to  teach  manners  now-a-days."  Obviously 
the  two  spheres  in  which  the  home  and  the  day  school  are 
operative  are  different  ;  it  is  less  obvious  but  equally  true 
that  improper  behaviour  permitted  in  one  sphere  will  react 
injuriously  on  the  child's  attitude  towards  the  apparently 
trivial  things  that  mean  so  much  in  the  other.  It  is  of  small 
service  to  the  child  for  the  schoolmasters  to  take  pains  to 
teach  him  politeness  of  speech,  and  to  labour  to  increase 
his    vocabulary,    if    he   find   that   both   his   parents    get 


214  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

through  life  with  only  one  adjective  which  is  made  to  do 
duty  as  an  adverb  as  well.  It  is  useless  for  parents,  especially 
if  they  live  in  humble  surroundings,  to  struggle  to  bring  up 
their  children  with  delicacy  and  refinement,  if  these  find  at 
school  that  their  teachers  are  coarse  and  insulting  (for  even 
a  child  resents  personalities),  and  that  their  schoolfellows  re- 
gard refinement  as  affectation  and  call  it  by  a  worse  name. 
The  day  school  master  is  not  free  from  responsibility 
when  school  is  dismissed.  He  is  freed  from  official  control, 
but  a  conscientious  master  or  mistress  will  realise  the 
possibility  of  doing  work  of  as  much  real  value  in  the 
quarter  of  an  hour  after  school  as  in  the  whole  day  of 
actual  school  lessons.  It  is  then  that  taste  can  be  formed, 
not  by  mere  sneers  at  the  '  penny  dreadful '  or  self-styled 
'  comic '  paper  which  children  may  produce  at  that  time  for 
their  reading,  but  by  suggesting,  showing,  or  lending,  more 
profitable  books.  It  is  no  use  simply  to  decry  the  idiotic 
or  sensational  stuff  with  which  many  children  delight  to 
occupy  their  leisure.  It  has  its  place,  and  a  very  low  place, 
in  literature  and  it  does  actually  appeal  to  the  child  or 
other  person  of  uncultivated  taste,  and  nothing  but  a 
breach  of  intellectual  sympathy  is  effected  by  telling  a 
child  that  he  "  ought"  not  to  like  such  stuff.  One  might 
with  little  less  reason,  tell  a  child  that  he  ought  not  to  like 
making  mud  pies  because  of  the  unknown  glories  of  sculp- 
ture and  architecture.  With  literature,  as  with  painting 
and  music,  taste  is  progressive ;  and  in  training  taste  each 
stage  must  be  given  time  to  develop,  and  should  even  be 
made  to  pall  upon  the  learner  by  comparison  with  some- 
thing conceived  as  slightlv  better.  A  man  whose  musical 
ideal  is  Mendelssohn's  work,  can  easily  progress  to  an 
appreciation  of  Beethoven,  but  there  are — happily  for 
most  of  us — many  stages  to  be  travelled  before  he  can 
leap  to  a  perfect  understanding  of  Glazounov  or  Strauss. 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  215 

Iii  many  town  schools  considerable  use  may  be  made  of  the 
lending  library.  Some  elementary  schools  have  arranged 
for  the  librarian  to  send  to  the  teachers  lists  of  books 
suitable  for  boys,  and  in  some  cases,  the  books  themselves 
are  sent  and  kept  in  the  school  class-rooms.  This  is  found 
to  be  a  very  popular  and  a  very  valuable  way  of  helping 
the  teachers  in  their  direction  of  the  boys'  use  of  leisure. 
It  may  almost  serve  the  purpose  of  a  school  library,  though 
it  is  better  for  every  school  to  get  its  own  library  together 
gradually,  and  to  use  the  town  library  to  supplement  it, 
not  to  replace  it  altogether. 

There  are  other  opportunities  also  for  the  master  or  mis- 
tress of  a  day  school.  In  towns  public  museums  or  exhibi- 
tions afford  opportunities  to  the  staff  of  teaching  children 
how  to  employ  leisure  time  with  enjoyment  and  profit ;  and 
in  countrv  districts,  as  well  as  in  towns,  masters  may  well 
identify  themselves  with  such  organizations  of  boys  as 
Baden-Powell's  Boy  Scouts,  St.  George's  Club,  Field 
Clubs,  Natural  History  or  Photographic  Societies  con- 
nected with  the  school  or  district,  all  of  which  aim  at 
widening  the  interests  of  boys  and  at  discouraging  the 
puffing  of  cigarettes  or  the  gorging  of  sweets  as  the  sole 
exercises  of  the  child's  leisure  time. 

If  in  favourably  circumstanced  schools,  more  than  this 
can  be  done,  the  teacher  may  apply  some  of  the  suggestions 
already  made  as  to  the  use  of  leisure  time  in  boarding- 
schools.1 

The   delimitation   of   the   duties   of   school    and    home 

mainly  occurs  at  those  points  where,  in  states 

Employment      0f  advanced  civilisation,  there  are  demanded 

School.  an  expert  knowledge  of  teaching  and  of  the 

subjects    taught,   and   expert    study    of   the 

varying  capacities  and   characteristics   of    children.     The 

1  See  pp.  193-196. 


21G  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

acceptance  by  the  school  of  such  complementary  responsi- 
bility involves  the  further  duty  of  helping-  parents  to 
"  settle  their  children  in  life."  The  schoolmaster  should 
have  obtained  the  special  knowledge  of  the  ability  and 
tastes  of  the  boy  which  are  the  chief  guides  to  the  right 
selection  of  a  profession,  a  knowledge  which  the  parents 
would  have  acquired  more  fully  if  there  had  been  thrown 
upon  them  alone  the  duty  of  training  their  own  children. 
It  becomes,  therefore,  the  schoolmaster's  duty,  as  well  as 
the  parents',  to  look  to  the  immediate  future  at  least  of 
the  boys'  lives.  He  should  make  himself  acquainted  with 
the  conditions  of  employment  in  the  various  occupations 
suitable  to  the  social  position  and  age  of  the  boys  who 
leave  his  school.  He  should  be  perfectly  familiar  with  the 
avenues  of  entrance  to  various  professions  and  should 
know  which  professions  are  best  suited  for  the  individual 
abilities  of  each  of  bis  boys,  which  of  them  offer  fair 
prospects  of  success  to  men  with  or  without  capital,  and 
which  are  overcrowded.  Or,  in  the  case  of  elementary 
schools,  he  should  be  familiar  with  the  conditions  of 
employment  in  the  various  local  trades  or  industries  ;  he 
should  find  out  which  firms  give  regular  advancement  to 
their  workers,  and  which  of  them  employ  boys  and  dis- 
charge them  when  they  are  old  enough  to  demand  men's 
wages.  Also  he  should  know  in  what  kinds  of  employment 
a  boy  can  pass  from  the  position  of  unskilled  labourer  to 
that  of  a  skilled  workman,  and  in  what  particular  factories 
or  mills  a  child  just  leaving  school  can  work  without  un- 
due risk  of  moral  contamination  by  his  or  her  fellow- 
workers.  It  is  the  parents'  duty  as  well  to  find  out  these 
things,  but  the  schoolmaster's  and  schoolmistress's  oppor- 
tunities of  obtaining  information  are  greater,  and,  through 
conversations  with  old  pupils  or  correspondence  with  em- 
ployers who  apply  to  them  for  boys  or  girls,   they  can 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  217 

place  themselves  in  a  position  impossible  for  individual 
parents  and  of  immense  value  not  only  to  parents  and  their 
children  but  to  employers  of  labour  as  well.  In  any  con- 
sideration of  the  relation  of  the  school  to  the  home  this 
field  of  usefulness  must  have  a  place.  The  school  should 
endeavour,  as  far  as  possible,  to  become  an  employment 
bureau  having  as  its  raison  cVetre  not  a  pecuniary  com- 
mission on  its  transactions,  but  a  lively  interest,  parental 
in  its  nature,  in  the  welfare  of  its  children,  and  through 
them  of  the  whole  district.  This  amongst  others,  is  one 
of  the  practical  examples  of  patriotism  that  the  school 
can  set  before  its  children  and  before  others  who  learn 
from  it. 

3.  We  have  dealt  thus  far  mainly  with  the  obligations 
laid  upon  the  school  and  its  teachers  by  their 
Duties  of  relation  with  parents,  and   the   correspond- 

ing duties  of  parents  have  only  been  intro- 
duced incidentally.  It  may  be  well,  however,  to  indicate  a 
few  of  the  ways  in  which  parents,  through  ignorance  of 
school  organization  or  through  indifference  to  it,  occasionally 
cause  annoyance  and  hinder  the  work  of  those  who  are 
employed  in  their  interests. 

Parents  should  support  the  authority  of  the  school  as  far 
as  they  possibly  can  do  so,  and  should  con- 
in  Supporting    duct  home  discipline  on  lines  similar  to,  or 
School  •  harmonious  with,  the  lines   of  school  disci- 

pline. If  work  is  being  done  in  school,  and 
a  child  were  to  ask  permission  to  go  into  the  street  to  listen 
to  a  barrel  organ,  that  permission  would  not  be  given ;  and 
if  there  is  home-work  to  be  done,  and  discipline  indicates 
that  the  pleasure  of  the  moment  should  yield  to  duty,  a 
parent  is  unwise  in  telling  the  child  that  he  need  not  do 
his  work  and  in  taking  him  to  a  pantomime  or  other  form 
of  entertainment.    He  is  doubly  unwise  if  he  follow  this 


218  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

first  indiscretion,  as  in  cases  we  have  known,  with  a  note 
to  the  teacher  that  his  child  was  prevented  by  severe  head- 
ache from  doing  his  home-work. 

And  as  parents  should  support  the  authority,  so  also 
should  they  try  to  avoid  interference  with 
in  not  Inter-  ^e  organization,  of  the  school.  They  should 
Organization ;  realise,  in  order  that  their  children  may 
realise,  that  engagements  must  be  kept.  If 
a  boy  has  been  in  the  habit  of  playing  in  school  games  on 
his  half-holidays  it  is  the  duty  of  the  parent,  quite  as  much 
as  of  the  school,  to  teach  him  that  it  is  bad  manners  to 
absent  himself  without  previous  notice  ;  and  if  the  boy  has 
actually  arranged  to  play  on  a  particular  day  the  parents 
should  see  that  no  obstacle  is  placed  by  them  in  the  way 
of  his  fulfilment  of  his  engagement.  Or  if  such  obstacle  is 
inevitably  necessary  then  good  manners  demand  that  notice 
should  be  given. 

And  as  with  games,  so  with  work.  The  school  has 
certain  arrangements,  known  as  the  curriculum  and  the 
time-table,  both  drawn  up  with  forethought  and  both 
involving  much  intricate  labour.  To  ride  rough- shod 
over  these  gives  incalculable  trouble  at  the  school,  and 
probably  does  little  good  to  the  child.  The  parent  of 
a  child  at  a  private  school  has  no  right  to  request  the 
Head-master  or  Head-mistress  to  allow  her  child  to  "miss 
the  French  lesson  on  Tuesday  afternoon  as  she  has  to 
go  for  her  violin  lesson  at  that  time  to  Herr  Pumper- 
nickel." The  effect  of  granting  that  request  is  that 
perhaps  twenty  other  girls  are  delayed  every  Thursday 
while  their  teacher  is  trying  to  teach  one  girl  what  she 
missed  on  Tuesday ;  or  it  may  be  that  this  effort  is  not 
made  and  then  the  reputation  of  the  school  for  teaching 
French  suffers  in  the  eyes  of  the  unreasonable  parent. 
The  effect  of  refusing  the  request  may   be   the   loss   of 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  219 

a  pupil,  which  the  private  school  often  cannot  afford, 
especially  if  the  loss  of  the  pupil  be  accompanied 
by  an  acquisition  of  the  reputation  for  being  "so  dis- 
obliging." 

But  there  are  requests  which  it  is  reasonable  for  any 
parent  to  make  in  connexion  with  the  work  of  the  school. 
If  a  parent  desire  his  boy  to  be  transferred  from  the 
Classical  to  the  Modern  Side,  he  is  at  liberty  to  ask  thai 
this  shall  be  done ;  but  he  should  do  so  at  the  end.  of  a 
school  year,  or  at  some  time  when  promotions  are  com- 
monly made.  In  other  cases  where  change  of  work  is 
required  the  Head-master  or  Head-mistress  should 
be  consulted  as  to  the  feasibility  of  the  change.  It 
is  not  wise  for  a  parent  to  send  such  a  letter  as  the 
following,  which  was  once  received  by  an  assistant 
master  :  "  Dear  Sir,  I  want  my  boy  to  do  Architectural 
Drawing  instead  of  French  and  to  learn  much  more 
History  and  begin  German.  Will  you  please  arrange  for 
him  to  do  so  ?  ' 

A  propos  of  requests  from  parents,  it  is  well  for  them 
never  to  make  a  verbal  request  through  the 
in  Correspond-   children.     It   may   be    quite    impossible    for 
Teachers ;  the  school  to   grant  the  request,  and  it   is 

then  difficult  for  the  teacher  to  say  so 
without  giving  offence  to  the  parent.  All  communi- 
cations between  parent  and  teacher  should  be  in  writing 
and,  if  delivered  by  the  child,  should  be  in  a  closed  enve- 
lope. 

We   have    already   indicated   the    duty    for   parents    of 

making  the  acquaintance  of  the  school  staff. 

in  Loyalty  to  jt  [s  necessary  also  that  thev  should,  when- 
their  Fellow-  .  .-n  i  (1  ,  „    , 

workers ;  ever    "    1S     possible,    shoAV    that    they    ieel 

some  confidence  in  the  good  intentions  and 

ability  of  the  school  and  its  teachers  ;  and  even  if,  in  an 


220  RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

individual  case,  they  can  feel  no  such  confidence  they  should 
at  least  refrain  from  making  their  want  of  trust  manifest 
to  the  children.  In  family  conversation  parents  should 
avoid  encouraging  their  children  in  rudeness  or  con- 
temptuous regard  for  any  of  their  teachers.  Even  if  any 
one  of  them  really  is  weak  or  incompetent  nothing  is 
gained  by  encouraging  children  to  see  only  his  weakness 
or  incompetence,  and  still  less  by  pointing  it  out  to 
children  who  have  not  yet  discovered  it.  It  would  be  well 
if  parents  made  it  a  rule  never  to  criticize  either  the  school 
or  the  masters  in  an  adverse  direction  in  the  presence  of 
the  children.  The  school  is  helping  them  in  their  own 
work  and  parents  should  be  as  loyal  to  their  assistant, 
the  school,  as  they  are  to  one  another.  Perhaps  more 
loyal. 

Finally,  it  is  the  duty  of  parents  to  give  to  the  schools 

the  best  material  with  which  to  work.    They 

in  Physical         should  see  that  their  children  are  adequately 

■  jo t*o  nf  tnp  v 

Children.  anc^  wholesomely  fed  and  clothed,  and  that 

they  live  a  regular  and  wholesome  life  at 
home.  They  should  give  them  opportunity  for  ample 
sleep  and  as  much  fresh  air  as  possible.  Parents  of 
straitened  means  should  add  to  their  previous  self-sacri- 
fices that  of  allowing  their  children  to  finish  their  school- 
ing before  sending  them  out  to  work,  and  when  they 
do  send  them  out  to  work  they  should  be  prepared  to 
sacrifice  the  prospect  of  immediate  wages  rather  than  to  let 
them  enter  upon  such  employments  as  the  selling  of  news- 
papers, which  are  injurious  and  ultimately  unprofitable. 
Parents  in  more  comfortable  circumstances  fortunately 
need  not  fear  these  deadly  risks  to  their  children:  their 
peril  lies  more  in  the  disappointment  consequent  upon 
the  discovery  that  their  ability  or  intelligence  has  been 
wronglv  estimated. 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME.  221 

4.  The  modifications  <>!'  detail  in  order  to  maintain  the 

riglit   relation   between  the  home  in   the  case 

Boarding  ^  boarding  schools  are  few  and  obvious. 

Schools  and  ° 

the  Home  :  The  weekly  reports  from  the  class  teachers 

„  do  not  then  concern  the  parents  but   their 

Reports  ;  r  . 

deputy    the   House- master.      It   is    he    who 

must  watch  and  take  action  with  reference  to  the  gradual 

progress   of   the   boys.       But    although    the    parents    are 

absolved  from  direct  responsibility  in  this  matter  fchey  are 

more  than  justified  in  retaining  their  interest  in  it,  and 

the  House-master  is  under  the  obligation  of  corresponding 

freely  and  frequently  with  parents. 

The  desirability  of  the  personal  acquaintance  of  parents 

and    masters    is    certainly   no    less    in    the 

Visits  of  boarding  school  than  in  the  day  school,  but 

Parents ;  °  .  ,  .      . 

the   difficulty   of   securing   this   is    perhaps 

greater.  In  some  houses  it  is  the  custom,  desirable  from 
many  points  of  view,  for  the  House-master  to  invite  parents 
to  pay  short  visits  to  the  house  throughout  the  term. 
During  their  visit  they  can  make  the  acquaintance  of 
the  house- tutor,  of  the  form-masters  under  whom 
their  boys  work,  of  the  captain  of  the  house  and  some 
of  the  house-prefects,  and  of  those  boys  with  whom  their 
son  is  especially  intimate  or  friendly.  They  will  readily 
understand  that  their  host  is  prevented  by  his  duties 
from  giving  them  all  the  attention  due  to  guests  at  a 
private  house,  and  it  is  wholesome  for  them  to  learn 
that  their  presence  is  not  allowed  to  interfere  with 
the  work  even  of  their  own  son.  In  spite  of  these  limit- 
ations to  the  enjoyment  of  their  visit  they  are  usually 
very  grateful  for  that  courtesy  which  enables  them  to 
enter  more  fully  into  the  school  life  of  their  children, 
the  ignorance  of  which  is  sometimes  a  bar  to  intelligent 
sympathy. 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    AND    HOME. 

It  is  the  duty  of  House-masters  also  to  adjust  the 
material  things  of  their  houses  so  that  the 
Conditkms  general  standard   of  living  may  be  neither 

much  worse  nor  any  better  than  that  of  the 
boys'  homes.  And  in  this  matter,  too,  they  should  enlist 
the  cooperation  of  parents.  Much  well-meaning  injury  is 
done  to  boys  by  parents  who  indulge  them  to  the  point  of 
sensuality  in  their  holidays.  The  life  of  a  well  regulated 
school  house  is  wholesome  and  regular,  the  bovs  are 
sufficiently  and,  now-a-days  pleasantly,  fed.  They  live  a 
strenuous  and  profitable  life  and  are  given  enough  sleep 
at  the  proper  time.  The  holidays,  for  young  people  as  for 
adults,  should  provide  relaxation  from  routine,  change  of 
scene  and  of  occupation,  some  freedom  from  external 
control,  but  no  license  in  respect  of  self -discipline.  The 
winter  holiday  may  reasonably  have  its  concomitants  of 
evening  parties,  of  pantomimes  or  other  festivities,  and  the 
late  hours  and  excitements  of  the  evening  demand  a  corre- 
sponding change  of  the  breakfast-hour,  and  possibly  a  slight 
increase  in  the  amount  of  sleep.  The  summer  holiday  has 
its  outdoor  enjoyments,  its  substitution  of  lawn-tennis, 
croquet,  camping,  picnics,  et  hoc  genus  omne,  for  the  eternal 
cricket  of  the  summer  term,  and  in  this  holiday  a  thorough 
weariness  of  body  may  make  the  bed  time  earlier.  But 
early  rising  at  this  time  of  the  year  should  be  required 
and  is  no  hardship. 

But  there  is  no  justification  for  parents  who  interpret 
the  need  for  relaxation  as  a  sanction  for  permitting  their 
children  to  exchange  a  Spartan  life  at  school  for  the  life 
of  Sybarites  at  home.  We  have  known  cases  in  which 
boys  have  been  almost  intoxicated  nightly  at  dinner  with 
the  acquiescence  and  encouragement  of  their  fathers,  and 
of  others  who  have  become  selfish  and  self-indulgent 
through  misguided   cosseting  by  their  mothers.     And  in 


RELATION    BETWEEN    SCHOOL    ANJ)    HOME.  223 

most  of  these  cases  the  evil  is  due  to  the  parents'  idea  that 
the  boy  ueeds  a  change  from  the  rigours  oil  school  govern- 
ment, and  that  the  indulgence  is  only  temporary  and  can 
easily  be  adjusted  next  term  at  school.  They  overlook 
the  facts  that  discipline  and  government  are  not  identical, 
that  a  change  is  not  profitable  if  it  be  a  change  for  the 
worse,  that  the  school  does  not  exist  for  neutralising  the 
follies  of  the  home,  and  that  encouragement  in  self-indul- 
gence cannot  be  corrected  by  short  and  alternating  periods 
of  external  control. 

The  House-master  may  reasonably  ask  the  parents  of 
his  boys  to  cooperate  with  him  in  such  matters  of  holiday 
discipline.  He  may  describe  the  conditions  of  life  at  the 
school,  and  in  writing  to  fathers  may  indicate  plainly  the 
dangers  which  such  regularity  is  designed  to  minimise; 
and  the  parent,  on  receiving  such  suggestions,  and  at  other 
times  also,  should  endeavour  to  recognise  the  fact  that 
schoolmasters  are  in  the  position  of  expert  advisers  and 
are  at  least  men  of  wider  experience  with  boys  than  most 
men  outside  their  profession. 


CHAPTER   X. 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

1.  The  discipline  which  aims  rightly  at  training  the  will 

„    .     ,  involves,  as  we  have  seen,  external  control  or 

Desired  .  . 

Identification     government  in  order  to  secure  the  ultimate 

of  Duty  and  operation  of  an  effective  self-discipline.  The 
.Plccisiirc 

educative  function  of    this  external  control 

is  largely  to  show  the  child  the  path  of  duty,  and  so  to 
influence  his  action  and  will  that  he  will  prefer  the 
path  of  duty  to  other  byways  of  personal  enjoyment.  It 
is  the  aim  of  self-discipline,  nay,  the  aim  of  life  itself,  to 
identify  duty  and  pleasure  in  such  a  manner  that  duty 
shall  be  chosen  on  all  occasions  with  the  minimum  effort 
of  will  upon  each. 

The  Christian  conception  of  heaven  illustrates  our 
attitude  towards  duty  and  pleasure  by  its  contrast 
with  non-Christian  conceptions  of  the  after  life.  The 
Valhalla  of  the  Norsemen  was  an  eternal  alternation 
of  feasting  and  fighting,  the  glorious  exercise  of  brute 
strength  and  virile  passions,  shrewd  blows  given  and 
grievous  wounds  received,  and  then  the  magic  balm  that 
healed  the  wounded  and  revived  the  dead  in  time  for  the 

224 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  225 

feast  which  strengthened  them  for  the  morrow's  fray. 
The  Nirvana  of  the  Buddhist  is  the  cessation  of  labour, 
relief  from  a  weary  round  of  incarnations,  absorption  into 
the  being  of  the  Buddha  himself,  loss  of  individuality, 
perfect  rest.  In  the  Mohammedan  Paradise  the  sons  of 
the  Prophet  are  rewarded  by  infinite  gratification  of 
sensuous  desire ;  perfection  of  beauty  and  luxury,  minis- 
trations of  heavenly  houris,  wine  denied,  to  them  in  this 
world,  costly  jewels,  rich  raiment,  luscious  sherbets — these 
comprise  their  Paradise. 

But  it  is  peculiarly  the  characteristic  of  the  Christian 
idea  of  perfect  joy  that  it  involves  perfect  compliance 
with  duty.  In  the  rich  symbolism  of  the  Apocalypse  the 
golden  crown,  typifying  the  reward  of  eternal  happiness, 
is  accompanied  by  the  golden  harp  which  typifies  the  duty 
of  eternal  praise  or  worship — the  particular  form  of  tvorlc 
most  suited  to  the  whole  conception  of  the  heavenly 
condition. 

But  in  a  school,  as  in  other  human  institutions,  we  fall 
somewhat  short  of  heavenly  perfection,  and.  duty  and. 
pleasure  have  not  yet  become  identical  in  the  minds  of 
the  children.  If  the  teachers  had  already  attained  a 
state  of  perfection  it  might  be  possible  for  them  to 
exercise  an  immediate  influence  upon  the  wills  of  the 
children  which  would  lead  them  at  once  to  make  this 
necessary  identification.  But  the  effect  of  imperfection 
on  both  sides  is  to  involve  the  use  of  imperfect  and 
mediate  means  instead  of  those  which  are  perfect  and  im- 
mediate, in  order  to  secure  even  tha/t  partial  recognition 
of  the  identity  which  is  possible  to  the  limitations  of 
humanity. 

These   means   usually   take   the   form   of    reward   and 
punishment,  or,  in  more  general  terms,  of  stimulus  and 
restraint.     Neither  of  them  has  any  place  in  the  perfect 
m.  d.  s.  15 


226  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

life  of  duty  ideally  performed,  but  in  tlie  imperfect  state 

each  is  of  some  practical  value. 

2.  In  the  ordinary  system  of  reward  and  stimulus  the 

leading  features  are  usually  prizes  and  some 
Stimulus :  ,  „  ,  .        ,  ,  .  , 

scheme  01  marking  by  which  an  account  is 

kept  of  the  progress  of  each  pupil  and  according  to  which 

the  prizes  are  awarded. 

In  any  system  of  marking  there  are  many  objectionable 

features.  Numerical  marks  represent  merely 

Marks  for  t]  j  f  tl      resuit  an(-i   not  t]ie  vajue  0f 

Achievement ; 

the  effort  put  forth  to  obtain   that   result. 

Boys  or  girls  cannot  be  expected  to  make  accurate  allow- 
ance for  the  intellectual  ability  or  dullness  of  others,  and, 
if  written  exercises  are  returned  and  they  find  one  with 
eight  marks  and  another,  apparently  better,  with  only  five, 
they  will  naturally  conclude  that  the  work  has  been  care- 
lessly or  unjustly  marked.  But  the  exercise  worthy  of 
eight  marks  may  be  the  very  creditable  work  of  a  dull 
child,  and  the  other  a  careless  piece  of  work  by  a  child 
who  ought  to  have  earned  ten  marks.  The  difficulty 
of  making  this  position  clear  to  the  class  leads  most 
teachers  to  assign  marks  simply  to  the  exercises  according 
to  their  absolute  merit  and  not  to  the  relative  merit 
of  each  exercise  as  representing  the  ratio  of  effort  to 
ability. 

Another  common  misuse    of  marks   is  that  of   giving 

marks  for  oral  work.  We  assert  without 
Oral  Work  ■       hesitation    that   no    method   has    yet   been 

devised  by  which  numerical  marks  can  be 
given  justly  for  oral  work.  The  few  methods  which 
approximate  nearly  to  fairness  in  this  respect  are,  without 
exception,  methods  which  on  other  grounds  are  injurious 
to  teaching.  Classes  may  be  questioned  in  order  and  the 
child  who  answers  the  question  may  "  go  up  "  above  those 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  227 

who  failed  to  answer.  At  the  end  of  the  lesson  the  children 
number  from  the  bottom  and  the  same  places  are  taken  at 
the  next  lesson.  There  certainly  is  a  stimulating  competi- 
tion by  this  method,  but  the  element  of  luck  enters  so 
largely  into  it  as  to  make  it  very  unfair.  It  also  makes  it 
necessary  for  the  teacher  to  question  the  class  or  to  set 
them  on  to  oral  work  in  a  fixed  order.  This  obviously 
hampers  his  teaching.  He  cannot  distribute  his  questions 
so  that  inattentive  boys  are  kept  at  work ;  he  cannot  even 
accomplish  a  clear  or  closely  reasoned  piece  of  logical 
teaching  by  means  of  questions  without  interruption  by 
boys  who  are  changing  places ;  and,  in  such  oral  work  as 
translation  or  construing  each  bov  can  calculate  when  and 
where  his  turn  may  come,  and  may  not  concern  himself 
with  any  other  part  of  the  work. 

A  method  devised  with  a  view  to  fairness  is  that  by 
which  questions  are  asked  by  the  teacher  and  the  answers 
written  by  the  whole  class.  They  are  then  marked  by  the 
children  themselves  and  each  child's  mark  is  recorded.  The 
chief  objection  to  this  method  is  that  the  wrong  kind  of 
questions  must  be  asked.  Only  those  are  suitable  which 
can  be  answered  in  a  single  word  or  phrase  or  by  a  date,  and 
these  details  of  fact  or  word  are  regarded,  since  they  are 
the  mark-getting  elements  of  the  work,  as  being  the  most 
important,  if  not  the  only  important,  things  in  the  subject 
of  study.  All  careful  deduction,  all  historical  perspective, 
all  geographical  '  atmosphere  '  are  found  to  be  unproductive 
of  marks,  and,  being  commercially  unprofitable,  are  re- 
garded by  children  as  the  less  important  or  as  unimportant 
parts  of  the  work.  A  system  of  '  cram '  is  the  inevitable 
result  of  this  method  if  it  be  carried  too  far,  though,  when 
judiciously  employed  and  without  reference  to  a  general 
system  of  marking,  it  is  undoubtedly  of  value  as  a  means 
of  impressing  necessary  facts. 


228  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

A  great  fault  in  almost  every  system  of  marking  is  the 

amount  of  labour  for  the  teachers  which  it 

f  m    Se*      involves,  a  labour  which   is    almost  always 

unprofitable,  sometimes  positively  harmful. 

With  young  children  probably  marks  do  serve  as  a  certain 

stimulus  and  indirectly  as  an  incentive  to  effort,  but  more 

usually  it  is  found  that  the  immature  mind  of  the  child 

does  not  connect  the  award  of  marks  directly  with  any 

effort  of  his  own.     He  does  not  work  to  get  high  marks, 

but  simply  works   and  is  pleased  if  his  work  is  marked 

highly  and  disappointed  if  it  gets  low  marks.     He  regards 

the  whole  matter  as  being  far  more  one  of  luck  than  of 

personal  effort,  and  so,  even  with  young  children,  marks 

often  fail  to  operate  as  a  stimulus  to  work. 

But  supposing  that  they  do  act  as  a  stimulus,  it  is  still 

an  open  question  whether  advantage  should 

Marks  not  a       ^e  fin]^eil  0f  ^e  motives  which  prompt  boys 

Stimulus  ;  to  excel  in  the  competition  for  marks.     Is  it 

a  wholesome  stimulus  ?  Ought  not  the  school 
to  check  rather  than  to  encourage  that  spirit  of  selfish  com- 
petition that  is  so  pitiful  an  evidence  of  human  imperfection  ? 
Why  should  a  numerical  value  be  attached  to  every  detail 
in  a  boy's  attempt  to  do  his  duty,  and  why  should  the 
performance  of  duty  be  rewarded  with  prizes  to  the  most 
intelligent  ?  There  is  far  too  little  encouragement  given 
to  boys  by  most  modern  systems  of  school  government 

"  To  set  the  Cause  above  renown, 
To  love  the  game  beyond  the  prize  ; " l 

and  the  practice  of  giving  marks  for  the  performance  of 
duty,  and  prizes  for  the  acquisition  of  marks,  is  unwhole- 
some to  the  children's  conception  of  duty. 

One   of   the   most   obvious  objections  to  the  ordinary 

1  Henry    Newbolt :   Clifton  Chapel. 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  229 

methods  of  marking  in  schools  is  the  selfishness  of  motive 
in  work  which  such  systems  promote.  Boys  work  entirely 
for  their  own  credit  or  promotion,  and  their  regard  for 
the  other  members  of  the  community  is  the  regard  nol  for 
a  fellow- worker  for  the  good  of  the  community  but  for  a 
personal  rival  or  competitor. 

To  preserve  the  stimulating  effect  of  marks  and  to 
remove  from  the   system  its    more  obvious 

ars  an  objections  an    admirable  plan  has  been  de- 

vised for  use  in  preparatory  schools,  which 
can  be  applied  by  simple  modifications  to  many  schools  of 
other  types.  It  is  known  as  Grenf ell's  System  of  '  Stars 
and  Stripes  V  and  a  full  description  of  its  working  may 
serve  to  demonstrate  its  value  and  to  dispel  any  prejudice 
which  the  name  of  the  system  may  arouse. 

A  '  star '  is  a  mark  of  distinction,  and  is  awarded  in  full 
or  as  a  '  half- star '  for  special  effort  or  meritorious  action. 
It  is  not  awarded  to  a  boy  merely  for  being  at  the  top  of 
his  class,  nor  merely  for  producing  a  better  written  exer- 
cise than  his  fellows.  Some  special  effort  must  have 
been  used  to  gain  it,  and  such  effort  is  similarly  re- 
warded whether  it  be  put  forth  by  a  clever  boy  who 
does  some  piece  of  brilliant  work  or  by  the  dull  boy  who 
exerts  himself  to  rise  even  slightly  above  his  normal  low 
level. 

A  '  stripe  '  or  a  '  half- stripe '  is  a  mark  of  disapproval, 
and  is  awarded  for  such  offences  as  talking  in  school,  eating 
or  inattention  in  class,  slovenly  writing,  dirty  hands  in 
school  or  at  meals,  being  without  books,  pen,  etc.,  leaving 
books  or  clothes  about,  breaking  bounds,  unpunctualitv, 

1  The  inventor  of  the  system  is  Mr.  A.  G.  Grenf  ell,  Head-master 
of  Mostyn  House  School,  Parkgate,  Cheshire,  and  the  publishers 
of  the  material  for  it  are  Messrs.  Matthews  Bros.,  of  Thomas 
Street,  Liverpool. 


230  STIMXTLTJS    AND    RESTRAINT, 

'  ragging  '  at  times  or  in  places  where  it  is  not  allowed,  and 
offences  of  a  similar  nature. 

Two  stripes  cancel  one  star,  and  one  star  cancels  two 
stripes. 

Any  boy  who  gets  a  stated  number  of  stripes  without 
countervailing  stars  renders  himself  liable  to  be  whipped. 
The  number  actually  fixed  must  depend  upon  the  freedom 
or  restraint  with  which  the  stars  and  stripes  are  awarded ; 
but  it  is  well  to  fix  a  fairly  low  number,  and  to  award 
half-  or  quarter- stripes  in  order  to  emphasize  the  enormity 
of  offences  which  call  for  the  award  of  a  full  stripe. 

Each  boy,  when  the  award  is  made,  receives  for  the  star 
or  stripe  a  pink  or  a  blue  cheque  bearing  his  name  and  the 
reason  for  the  award.  This  is  taken  home  and  initialled 
by  the  parent  and  returned  to  the  class-master  or  to  the 
Head-master.  . 

A  summary  of  all  stripes  given  is  made  each  week,  and 
if  the  number  exceed  one-third  of  the  number  of  boys  in 
the  unit  taken — the  school  or  the  class — all  the  stripe- 
winners  will  attend  school  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  or  at 
some  other  time  of  leisure,  for  '  detention.'  On  the  other 
hand,  if  the  number  of  stars  in  excess  of  the  stripes  exceed 
one-third  of  the  number  of  boys,  the  captain  or  head-boy 
has  the  right  to  ask  the  Head-master  for  an  extra  half-holi- 
day or  some  similar  benefit  for  the  whole  unit.  In  this  wTay 
every  boy  is  made  to  feel  his  personal  responsibility  to  his 
fellows,  and  considerable  force  of  character  is  developed 
in  the  striving  for  stars  or  at  least  in  the  careful  avoid- 
ance of  stripes  which  would  cancel  the  meritorious  work  of 
others. 

If  the  additional  stimulus  of  prizes  be  considered  desir- 
able or  if,  for  other  reasons,  an  annual  prize  distribution  be 
considered  necessary  to  the  welfare  of  the  school,  the  award 
of  prizes  may  be  based  upon  the  personal  record  of  each 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  23l 

boy  in  the  matter  of  stars  and  stripes.  The  same  number 
which  is  fixed  in  the  ease  of  stripe-winners  to  justify  a 
whipping-  may  reasonably  be  assigned  to  Btar-winners  to 
qualify  for  a  prize.  And  this  award  of  prizes  is  valuable 
in  connexion  with  the  system,  since  it  may  prevent  a  good 
boy  from  feeling  thai  Ins  stars  are  altogether  wasted  by 
the  cancelling  stripes  awarded  to  other  boys.  The  com- 
munity thus  bears  the  loss  of  all  offences,  the  individual 
surfers  only  for  his  own. 

At  the  end  of  each  term  a  balance  of  stars,  stripes 
and  prizes  is  struck  for  each  boy,  and  resultant  stars  are 
carried  over  to  next  term.  Stripes  are  wiped  out  and 
forgiven  so  that  next  term  all  boys  start  with  a  clean 
sheet. 

The  system  can  well  be  extended  by  parents  in  co- 
operation with  the  school  so  that  it  may  help  in  home 
discipline  as  well, 

A  list  of  the  boys  is  posted  on  the  school  notice-board, 
or  in  each  class-room  in  the  case  of  large  schools,  and 
wafers  are  attached  to  the  list  opposite  to  each  boy's  name. 
A  red  wafer  indicates  a  full  star  and  a  blue  wafer  a  full 
stripe ;  a  fraction  wTitten  in  red  or  blue  pencil  will  serve 
to  keep  account  of  half-,  or  quarter- stars  or  stripes  until 
it  is  covered  by  the  wafer.  This  list  makes  the  weekly 
and  terminal  account  very  easy  to  keep  and  also  serves  to 
show  the  boys  at  a  glance,  by  the  preponderance  of  red  or 
blue  wafers,  which  boys  are  being  helpful  to  the  com- 
munity and  which  are  standing  in  the  way  of  the  extra 
half-holiday  by  their  idleness  or  other  indiscretions. 

To  summarise  the  advantages  of  the  system :  it  dispenses 
with  much  unnecessary  punishment ;  it  rewards  effort  as 
well  as  mere  success  ;  it  fosters  the  spirit  of  acting  for 
the  benefit  of  the  whole  community  rather  than  for  in- 
dividual gain;     it  facilitates  cooperation  with  the  home; 


232  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

and  it  gives  some  degree  of  publicity  to  the  conduct  of 

each  individual. 

Another  effective  means  of  promoting  cooperative  rivalry 

in  place  of  selfish  competition  is  the  system, 

P?2£^J5al  -  invented  by  the  Jesuit  Fathers  and  still  used 
Carthaginians.    t  J 

in  their  English  schools,  of  dividing  classes 
into  two  sides  called  generally  Romans  and  Carthaginians, 
sometimes  Athenians  and  Corinthians.  Each  side  has 
its  leader  or  '  Imperator ',  and  the  two  leaders  pick  their 
followers  alternately.  Each  boy  has  his  own  opponent  on 
the  opposite  side.  The  aim  of  each  boy  is  to  secure  for 
his  own  side  more  marks  than  are  scored  by  the  opposite 
side.  The  reward  is  an  extra  half-holiday  each  half-term 
for  the  winning  sides.  Sometimes  to  this  are  added 
shields  denoting  the  winning  and  the  losing  sides.1  In  all 
memory  lessons  marks  are  given.  Each  boy  has  his  own 
'  adversary '  and  stands  up  also  if  his  adversary  is  called 
upon  in  class ;  if  no  mistake  be  made  the  boy  answering 
scores  a  mark  for  his  side ;  if  he  make  a  mistake  his 
adversary  corrects  him,  if  he  can,  and  so  scores  a  mark  for 
his  own  side.  The  teacher  nods  to  the  '  Imperator  '  of  the 
side  which  is  to  count  the  victory,  and  the  '  Imperatores ' 
keep  tally  of  the  marks  for  their  own  sides,  and  each  boy 
checks  this  by  a  record  of  his  own  victories.  Marks  may 
also  be  lost  by  individuals  or  by  a  whole  side  for  '  slacking,' 
and  may  be  earned  even  by  the  dullest  boys  by  effort. 
Each  day  the  marks  are  handed  in  and  the  master  puts  up 
a  list  in  the  class-room.  Owing  to  the  alternative  mode 
of  choice  and  the  keen  emulation  developed,  there  is 
usually  very  little  difference  between  the  sides.  After  the 
half-term  victory  the  sides  are  chosen  again. 

The  system  is   very  elastic  and  is   used   by   different 

1  They  bear  the  inscriptions  S.P.Q.B.  VIC  TORI  AM  EEPOR- 
TAT  and  SVB  IVGO  ITVR  respectively. 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  233 

masters  to  different  extents.  It  is  found  especially  effective 
with  young  boys.  An  interesting  variation  of  '  sides  '  maj 
be  adopted  in  individual  lessons  mainly  devoted  to  revision 
of  memory  work,  by  allowing  the  sides  to  question  each 
other  in  turn,  boy  by  boy.  Then  if  the  required  answer 
be  not  forthcoming  the  side  which  proposed  the  question 
scores  a  mark  for  the  failure  provided  the  answer  is 
supplied  from  its  own  ranks. 

These  methods  are  stimulating  and  can  be  applied  with 
or  without  modification  in  many  circumstances  where  the 
teaching  of  formal  parts  of  the  work  seems  to  call  for  some 
extraneous  stimulus. 

3.  Prizes,    unless    their    award   be   based    upon    some 

system  such  as  that  which  we  have  described, 

Reward :  are   not    generaUy    desirable.      To  rewards 

strictly  so  called,  given  as  marks  of  appro- 
bation but  not  promised  beforehand,  there  can  be  little 
objection,  but  much  can  be  said  against  the  giving  of 
prizes,  that  is,  of  rewards  held  out  as  a  motive. 

They  are  essentially  worldly  and  appeal  to  worldly 
motives,  and  therefore  logically  reward  worldly  qualities. 
Hence  they  should  never  be  given  for  good  conduct,  though 
that  should  always  be  a  qualifying  condition  for  receiving 
a  prize,  but  they  should  be  regarded  simply  as  incentives 
to  exertion  for  non-moral  ends.  For  this  reason  care 
should  be  taken  to  avoid  any  overlapping  of  the  prize- 
motive  and  the  duty-motive,  and  this  end  is  best  secured 
by  offering  prizes  only  for  voluntary  work,  done  out  of 
school,  such  as  essays  on  given  subjects,  special  periods  of 
history,  prose  or  verse  compositions  in  English  or  other 
languages,  natural  history  collections  or  other  scientific 
work,  or  for  artistic  work  or  handicrafts  such  as  wood- 
carving,  holiday  sketching,  photography,  and  the  like. 

Prizes     awarded   upon   the   results   of   the    '  Star    and 


234  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

Stripe '  system  are  less  objectionable  than  ordinary  school 
prizes,  since  it  is  an  essential  feature  of  that  system  that 
the  mere  performance  of  duty  is  never  rewarded  even  with 
a  quarter-star,  and  therefore  a  prize  given  for  a  credit 
balance  of  stars  must  be  given  for  special  effort  and  not 
for  perfunctory  work  or  intellectual  brilliance. 

The  stimulus  of  reward  is  not  confined,  by  any  means, 
to  those  rewards  which  are  material  or  tan- 
gible. Promotion  may  be  used  in  cases 
where  a  clever  and  hard-working  boy  is  likely  to  profit 
by  it.  We  do  not  refer,  of  course,  to  the  periodical  pro- 
motion of  whole  classes,  but  rather  to  the  singling  out  of 
a  particular  boy  for  promotion  to  a  higher  class  as  a 
definite  recognition  of  his  industry.  Care  should  be 
taken  that  the  reason  for  such  promotion  is  known  by 
the  other  boys,  and  that  such  promotions  are  not  of 
sufficient  frequency  to  injure  the  work  of  the  higher 
class  or  form. 

School  offices,  such  as  prefectships  and  the  captaincy 
of  the  school,  are  attractive  rewards  to  the 
Dirties  ^^  upper  boys,  but  in  lower  forms,  as  well,  the 
right  of  performing  small  duties  may  be 
eagerly  coveted  and  so  may  be  used  as  a  reward  of  merit. 
The  privilege  even  of  cleaning  the  blackboard  appeals 
to  very  young  boys  as  a  desirable  thing,  and  the  duties 
of  fetching  necessary  maps,  of  keeping  the  master's  cup- 
board tidy,  or  of  marking  attendance  either  at  school  or 
at  games,  may  be  distributed  with  good  effect  among 
deserving  boys. 

4.  The  correlatives  of  stimulus  and  reward  are  restraint 
and  punishment,  and,  as  we  have  considered 

Restraint  and  rewarcj  ftg  fuucti0ns  and  limitations,  we 
Punishment.  ' 

should  also  accord  similar  consideration  to 

the  functions  and  limitations  of  punishment  in  school. 


STIMTTLITS    AND    RESTRAINT.  '235 

Punishment,  as  we  have  seen,  is  the  reaction  of  any 
society  upon  an  inefficient  or  injurious  indi- 
Punishment  vidua],  or  the  assertion  of  its  right  to  main- 
tain itself  in  pursuit  of  its  aim.  Hence, 
punishment  fails  it'  by  its  severity, frequency,  or  unwisdom 
it  makes  a  child  dislike  school,  since  it  thereby  alienates 
the  will  of  at  least  one  member  from  the  intention  of  the 
community.  It  fails  yet  more  disastrously  if  it  inflict  real 
or  permanent  injury  whether  physical  or  mental — if  it 
produce  either  a  physical  cripple  or  a  craven,  timid,  or 
untruthful  character- — for  thereby  it  decreases  the  effi- 
ciency of  the  individual  and  of  the  community.  And, 
since  punishment  is  the  reaction  of  society  upon  the 
individual  in  consequence  of  definite  deviations  from  lawful 
conduct,  it  fails  if  it  is  out  of  all  relation  to  the  offence, 
for  then  it  is  felt  to  be  not  a  natural  reaction  of  the  societv 
but  an  act  of  vengeance  arising  out  of  the  mere  power  to 
avenge. 

Punishment  in  school,  then,  has,  as  its  primary  aim,  the 
reformation  of  the  offender.  This  is  its  essential  feature  ; 
it  must  he  corrective  or  reformative.  But,  as  we  shall  show 
later,  there  mav  be  occasions  when  the  offender  needs  no 
further  reformation,  but  when,  nevertheless,  it  would  be  un- 
wise to  let  the  offence  go  unpunished.  Punishment  there- 
fore may  he  deterrent — may  be  used,  that  is  to  say,  in  order 
to  prevent  those  who  are  not  yet  offenders  from  becoming- 
offenders  as  a  result  of  the  attractiveness  of  the  offence  and 
the  observed  impunity  of  one  who  has  offended.  But  one 
conception  of  punishment  is  out  of  place  in  schools  :  school 
punishment  must  never  he  simply  retributive.  It  must 
never  be  possible  to  interpret  or  to  explain  punishment  as 
the  result  of  having  annoyed  or  irritated  a  person — whether 
master,  mistress  or  prefect — nor  yet  as  a  payment  at  a 
fixed  tariff  for  which  a  corresponding  offence  may  be  com- 


r 


236  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

mitted.  This  is  often  the  effect  produced  by  school  rules, 
or  rather  school  prohibitions,  which  assign  a  definite 
penalty  to  the  breach  of  each  commandment.  If  a  boy 
be  told  beforehand  that  a  hundred  lines  is  the  penalty  for 
being  late  at  roll-call,  he  may  consider  carefully  whether 
the  finishing  of  the  chapter  in  a  story  or  the  development 
of  a  photographic  plate  is  worth  a  hundred  lines,  thus 
making  the  whole  conception  of  punishment  personal  and 
selfish,  and  the  virtue  of  punctuality  a  matter  not  of 
loyalty  to  the  community  but  of  personal  convenience. 
Now  punishment    at    school   is    incurred    by  two  very 

different  kinds  of  offences — those  which  in- 
PU?i+Shlment  v°lve  some  amount  of  moral  turpitude,  and 
Offence  :  those  which  are  merely  technical  violations  of 

school  rules  which  exist  only  to  secure  exter- 
nal order  by  restraining  acts  which  in  any  other  circum- 
stances would  be  blameless.  Very  frequently  no  distinction 
is  drawn  by  the  school  between  these :  each  is  an  '  offence,' 
and  each  is  punished  in  the  same  way.  The  result  can  only 
be  a  confusion  in  the  children's  minds  between  the  great 
principles  of  morality  and  the  mere  conventions  of  par- 
ticular forms  of  society.  The  primary  essential,  then,  for 
an  administration  of  punishment  which  aims  at  being  an 
instrument  of  discipline  is  that  the  children's  offences 
should  be  separated  into  these  two  classes. 

Some,  of  course,  are  on  the  border-line.     In  itself  the 

particular  act  is  not  positively  wrong,  but 

persistence  in  it  may  form  a  wrong  habitude. 
For  example,  to  do  nothing  is  not  at  all  times  evil ;  to  do 
nothing  for  part  of  a  dull  lesson  is  not  a  very  serious  thing 
from  the  point  of  view  of  life  rather  than  from  that  of  the 
annoyed  teacher ;  but  to  form  a  habit  of  idleness  means  to 
form  a  slack  habitude  of  mental  and  moral  life.  Idleness 
is,  thus,  one  of  those  minor  offences  which  may  have   a 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  237 

serious  cumulative  effect,  and  must,  therefore,  be  cured 
for  the  child's  sake  as  well  as  for  the  sake  of  the  work  of 
the  class.  The  most  frequent  plan  is  to  punish  a  boy  for 
each  act  of  idleness  by  giving  him  extra  work  to  do.  If 
that  be  all,  the  punishment  touches  only  the  outward  acts  ; 
it  does  not  at  all  reform  the  habitude.  So  we  have  the 
common  experience  that  the  same  boy  is  punished  daily 
for  idleness,  and  yet  becomes  continuously  more  idle.  As 
an  instrument  of  discipline  the  punishment  has  obviously 
failed ;  and  it  has  failed  because  the  teacher  has  not  looked 
beneath  the  surface,  and  has  therefore  dealt  only  with  the 
symptoms  of  the  disease,  not  with  the  disease  itself. 

Any  true  dealing  must  treat  the  disease  itself.  In 
practice  it  is  not  found  effective  with  the  majority  of  boys 
to  exhort  them  to  be  industrious  for  their  own  sakes  :  that 
is  appealing  to  the  same  kind  of  feeling  in  the  boy  which 
has  prompted  him  to  be  idle — namely,  his  own  advantage. 
But  when  there  is  anything  like  a  good  tone  in  a  class, 
experience  has  shown  that  it  is  effective  to  appeal  to  the 
boy's  sense  of  justice  and  of  community  life.  "  You  have 
been  idle,  and  have  not  learnt  this  or  that  which  the  others 
have  learnt ;  unless  you  get  up  to  them  you  will  delay  their 
progress ;  so  go  and  learn  in  your  private  time  what  you 
should  have  learnt  during  school  hours."  So  effective  has 
such  treatment,  when  applied  regularly,  been  known  to  be 
that  it  has  become  the  invariable  custom  in  a  class  for  a 
boy  who  has  been  forced  to  be  absent  from  school  to  ask 
the  teacher  spontaneously  what  work  he  should  do  in 
order  to  catch  up  to  his  fellows. 

"  But,"  the  pedant  for  government  may  urge,  "  this  is 
not  punishment  at  all."  We  reply  that  it  is  the  obvious 
reaction  of  the  school  society  upon  an  act  of  which  the 
wrong  was  essentially  that  it  hindered  the  common  pro- 
gress, that  it  has  turned  the  boy  to  repentance :  in  a  word 


238  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

that  it  has  succeeded  as  a  matter  of  discipline.  In  dealings 
with  children  which  are  intended  simply  to  train  them  up 
to  good,  what  more  ought  to  be  required  ? 

If,  however,  such  an  appeal  does  not  prove  effective,  and 
the  boy  comes  to  school  the  next  day  without  having  done 
the  work,  then  evidently  he  has  committed  another  offence 
— that  of  deliberate  disobedience.  And  the  deliberateness 
of  this,  combined  with  its  thorough-going  rebelliousness, 
shows  that  the  boy  in  question  must  be  brought  into  sub- 
mission to  the  law  before  he  can  become  a  recipient  of 
grace.  No  better  way  of  convincing  such  a  deliberate  rebel 
of  the  error  of  the  ways  of  rebellion  has  yet  been  dis- 
covered than  a  whipping.  But  let  it  be  quite  clear  that 
this  is  the  reaction  on  his  disobedience,  not  on  his  idleness. 
The  latter  is  not  purged,  nor  are  the  requirements  of 
justice  met,  until  the  boy  has  accepted  the  obligation  to  do 
again,  and  that  to  the  best  of  his  power,  the  neglected 
work. 

This  is,  evidently,  a  very  different  thing  from  setting 
work  as  a  punishment.  The  boy  can  see  the  justice  of 
doing  the  work  he  ought  to  have  done,  and  such  a  require- 
ment has  no  tendency  to  form  the  habitude  of  dislike  to 
the  subject  even  while  outward  compulsion  is  simulating 
the  habit  of  working  at  it.  But  this  result  is  the  natural 
outcome  of  setting  work  as  a  punishment  for  other  offences, 
or  even  of  setting  additional  work  as  a  punishment  for 
idleness.  The  old  Protestant  custom  of  punishing  all  kinds 
of  childish  misdemeanours  by  the  learning  by  heart  of  a 
Psalm  of  David  or  a  chapter  from  the  Gospels  is  happily 
nearly  extinct.  But  many  of  the  punishments  which  still 
obtain  in  schools — especially  in  secondary  schools — are  of 
exactly  the  same  kind.  To  form  an  inseparable  association 
between  any  occupation  and  the  deprivation  of  liberty,  the 
displeasure  of  parent  or  teacher,  and  the  general  sense  of 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  li - > i * 

being  in  disgrace,  is  not  the  most  obvious  wav  of  leading  a 
child  to  love  that  occupation.  If  this  be  granted,  then  the 
time-honoured  '  Imposition  '  goes  to  its  long-deserved  an '1 
appropriate  last  home — the  limbo  reserved  for  exploded 
fallacies. 

The    other    common    offences    against   order — such    as 

talking  in  class,  restlessness,  unstable  atten- 
Offn°c     •  tion,  and  the  like — are  often  due  to  physical 

conditions.  Then  they  are  pretty  general  in 
the  class,  and  the  only  sensible  treatment  is  one  which  is 
addressed  to  those  physical  conditions.  No  punishment  is 
called  for.  The  air  of  a  room  is  not  made  less  stuffy  and 
oppressive  by  plunging  a  number  of  children  into  tears. 
So  when  a  whole  class  shows  signs  of  boredom  the  teacher 
should  mentally  kick  himself,  not  cane  his  pupils. 

But  when  in  a  generally  attentive  class  one  or  two  indi- 
viduals show  that  they  are  not  working,  and  so  make 
themselves  a  nuisance  first  to  the  teacher,  then  to  their 
class-mates,  then  individual  treatment  is  needed.  The 
great  question  is  :  Is  this  fidgeting  or  chattering  a  usual 
thing  or  an  exceptional  incident  with  this  particular  boy  ? 
If  the  latter,  a  glance,  a  word,  or  some  other  sign  of 
warning,  is  enough.  In  such  a  case  it  is  only  the  martinet 
pedant  who  is  "  extreme  to  mark  what  is  done  amiss." 
The  wise  teacher  knows  that  no  evil  intent  is  there,  that 
the  whole  incident  is  trivial  in  the  extreme,  and  that  it 
would  be  the  height  of  folly  to  magnify  it.  But  if  the  boy 
at  fault  habitually  offends  in  that  way,  then  we  have  the 
symptoms  of  a  bad  habitude.  Again  the  treatment  is 
effective  just  in  so  far  as  it  reforms  the  habitude.  Sharp 
reproof,  even  a  caning,  may  be  found  needful  to  check  the 
lawlessness  of  the  outward  conduct,  to  help  the  offender  to 
remember  the  law — which  he  rather  prides  himself  on  forget- 
ting— and  to  teach  him  that  "Please,  sir,- 1  forgot "  has  but 


240  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

narrow  limits  of  acceptability.  But,  as  in  the  former  case, 
this  governmental  treatment  is  only  preliminary  :  its  func- 
tion is  to  clear  the  ground  of  weeds  so  that  discipline  may 
have  a  chance  of  developing  the  good  seed  which  is  surely 
there,  though,  perhaps,  nearly  dead  from  want  of  cultivation. 

Other  small  responses  to  small  offences  will  be  found 
effective  means  of  that  government  which  concerns  itself 
merely  with  the  smooth  working  of  the  scholastic  machine. 
To  call  an  inattentive  bov  to  the  front  of  the  class  and 
while  he  is  there  to  ply  him  with  questions  and  to  make 
him  take  more  than  his  proportionate  share  in  the  class 
work  is  not  only  an  appropriate  reaction  against  his  having 
just  taken  less  than  his  share,  but  quite  generally  stirs  up 
his  interest,  merely  dormant  for  a  time,  and  then  he  may 
return  to  his  place  cured  of  his  small  disease  and  not  merely 
cleansed  from  its  symptoms. 

With  small  boys  a  very  effective  mode  of  dealing  with 
small  faults  in  school  behaviour  is  a  few  minutes'  detention 
after  school,  during  which  the  offender  does  absolutely 
nothing  and  is  forbidden  to  move  even  a  finger.  Three  or 
four  minutes  of  this  seems  to  the  boy  a  very  long  time — as 
the  reader  may  verify  by  himself  trying  to  do  absolutely 
nothing  for  five  minutes — and  as  every  movement  adds  half 
a  minute  to  his  imprisonment,  his  attention  is  concentrated 
just  on  doing  nothing — a '  centre  of  interest '  utterly  void  of 
interest  and  attraction.  Moreover  the  plan  has  the  advan- 
tages of  not  punishing  the  teacher  as  well  as  the  boy  by 
detention,  and  of  not  giving  an  irate  mother  time  to  reach 
the  school  to  demand  the  immediate  release  from  durance 
of  her  cherubic  offspring. 

A  very  common  source  of  trouble  in  many  schools  is  the 

readiness  of  the  pupils  to  '  copy  '  from  their 

neighbours.     Too  often  this  is  most  unwisely 

treated.      The   teacher   tells  his   class   that    "  copying   is 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  241 

stealing."  Of  course,  they  are  far  too  Logical  to  believe 
him.  They  know  quite  well  that  the  essence  of  stealing  is 
the  transference  of  property  from  its  lawful  possessor  to 
his  own  use  by  one  who  has  no  right  to  it,  and  that  when 
they  copy  they  leave  the  person  from  whom  they  copy  in 
full  possession  of  his  goods.  Often,  too,  the  person  copied 
from  is  quite  willing  to  give  this  assistance  to  his  friend. 
When  a  boy  complains  "  Please,  sir,  Jones  is  copying  from 
me,"  there  usually  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  complaint  not 
an  abhorrence  of  this  act  of  Jones,  but  a  dislike  of  some 
other  act.  Perhaps  Jones  has  refused  to  give  him  a  share 
of  the  sweets  which  he  has  in  his  pocket,  or  is  surrep- 
titiously eating. 

Now,  when  Jones  is  willing  that  Brown  should  copy 
from  him,  it  is  quite  hopeless  to  try  to  convince  Brown 
that  he  is  acting  dishonestly  towards  Jones  in  accepting 
his  help.  Here  again,  unless  the  habitude  be  made  right 
it  is  useless  to  treat  the  symptoms.  Obviously,  a  deeper 
analysis  is  called  for. 

Now,  in  itself,  the  helping  of  one  child  by  another  is 
not  only  in  no  sense  wrong,  but  is  positively  virtuous. 
And  in  much  school  work  the  giving  of  such  help  should 
be  encouraged  by  the  teachers. 

Nor  can  we  find  it  morally  blameworthy  to  seek  help 
from  another  which  he  is  not  willing  to  give.  Of  course, 
if  something  extraneous  depend  on  the  result  so  that  the 
gain  of  one  involves  the  loss  of  another  then,  and  then 
only,  copving  is  a  kind  of  indirect  way  of  securing  not 
what  is,  but  what  might  possibly  become,  another's.  But  in 
ordinary  school  work  this  does  not  hold.  So  there  the  evil 
of  copying  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  simple  relations  of  Brown 
and  Jones  and  all  attempts  to  place  it  there  are  doomed  to 
the  failure  which  is  the  fullv  deserved  fate  of  unrealitv. 

The  evil  of  copying  consists  not  in  the  fact  that  Brown 
m.  d.  s.  16 


242  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

gets  the  lielp  of  Jones  but  in  that  he  presents  the  result 
as  his  own  unaided  product.  This  is  obviously  dishonest 
towards  the  teacher,  and  further,  by  deceiving  him  as  to 
Brown's  knowledge  it  misleads  him  in  his  subsequent 
teaching.  Brown  himself,  therefore,  suffers  educationally. 
He  is  encouraged  to  further  idleness  ;  he  is  habituated 
more  and  more  to  rely  on  others  rather  than  on  himself : 
he  is  becoming  inured  to  lying,  tacitly  and  in  act  if  not 
overtly  in  word.  In  short,  Brown  is  becoming  a  con- 
temptible sneak  and  an  intellectual  parasite. 

Now,  if  this  is  the  jreal  disease,  obviously  the  remedy  is 
found  only  when  Brown  is  led  thus  to  regard  his  conduct. 

But  suppose  Brown  is  the  common  type  in  a  class.  We 
must  say  again  that  the  disease  is  cured  only  when  the 
tone  of  that  class  is  changed.  Nor  can  this  change  be 
brought  about  by  negative  means,  such  as  not  allowing 
neighbours  to  do  the  same  sums.  A  want  of  honour 
cannot  be  cured  by  a  parade  of  suspicion.  If  a  teacher 
implicitly  says  to  a  class,  "  I  know  you  are  not  to  be 
trusted,"  his  assertion  will  soon  be  fully  justified  in  fact. 
Let  him,  on  the  contrary,  say  a  few  stimulating  and 
encouraging  words  to  his  pupils  immediately  before  he  sets 
them  a  piece  of  common  work  which  each  is  to  do  indi- 
vidually, and  then  tell  them  he  puts  them  on  their  honour. 
Let  him  be  watchful,  and  give  a  warning  word  to  anyone 
he  sees  beginning  to  yield  to  the  old  habit,  but  let  it  be  a 
word  of  warning  rather  than  of  reproof.  Let  him  assume 
that  the  boys  are  trying  to  break  the  old  habit,  but  let  him 
also  bear  in  mind  that  old  habits  are  not  easily  broken. 
Let  him  not  expect  instantaneous  conversion,  but  be  satisfied 
with  slow  progress,  so  long  as  it  is  real  progress.  Further, 
let  him  only  call  for  this  severely  independent  work  in  cases 
where  its  reasonableness  can  be  seen  by  the  boys  :  in  other 
cases  let  him  encourage  mutual  helpfulness.     Let  him  make 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  243 

quite  clear,  iu  short,  that  copying  is  wrong  only  when  it  poe 

as  independent  work.     Above  all,  let  him  trust  his  boys  to 

mark  their  own  sums  Righl  or  Wrong,  to  correct  their  own 

errors  in  a  piece  of  dictation,  and  soon.     Of  course  he  will 

keep  a  watchful  eve  over  all  such  things.     But  never  will  a 

wise  teacher  suggesl   to  his  pupils  thai  he  does  not  trust 

them,  nor  sow  the  seeds  of  distrust  and  dispute  among  the 

boys  themselves,  by  'changing'  written  exercises,  so  that 

each  boy  marks  that  of  his  neighbour  instead,  of  his  own. 

Bullying  as  a  school  offence  is  by  no  means  uncommon, 

but  the  bullying  as  depicted  by  the  female 
Bullying.  r  +    •  w 

novelist  is  very  rare.     Ot  course  cases  may 

occur  where  a  big,  hulking  fellow  does  take  a  cruel  delight 

in  inflicting  physical  pain  upon  a  smaller  or  weaker  boy. 

Some  even  of  the  savage  tortures  of  which  we  read  in  books 

purporting  to  describe  public  school  life  may  occasionally 

take  place. 

This  kind  of  bullying  does,  in  all  probability,  demand 
punitive  treatment.  In  the  rare  cases  when  it  is  found, 
the  bully  is  very  appropriately  shown  the  discomfort  of 
severe  physical  pain  ;  and  by  any  other  appeal  to  his  better 
nature  should  be  led,  at  the  same  time,  to  change  his 
cowardly  for  a  more  chivalrous  habitude. 

But  the  form  of  bullying  which  is  a  real  terror  to  many 
boys  in  preparatory  or  other  schools  is  the  oppression  of 
a  boy  of  weak  character  by  another  of  dominating  will. 
Physical  violence  may  be  absent  altogether  or,  at  the  most, 
is  but  incidental  to  this  kind  of  bullvmo-.  The  bullv  in 
these  cases  is  often  the  tough  little  chap  with  curly  hair 
and  blue  eyes,  of  good  physique  and  determined  appear- 
ance, whom  the  novelist  would  select  as  her  faultless  hero 
and  the  champion  of  the  weak,  and  who  usually,  in  fact, 
is  justly  liked  by  his  masters  and  by  a  majority  of  the 
boys.     A  sense  of  security  and  general  happiness  arising 


244  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

from  such  popularity  may  have  made  him  a  little  thought- 
less and  selfish,  and  his  strength  of  will  very  frequently 
finds  expression  in  the  mental  domination  of  one  or  two 
bovs  of  weaker  character  but  often,  or  even  usually,  of 
greater  size.  He  enjoys  issuing  his  commands  to  such 
boys  and  seeing  them  meekly  obey  him,  he  may  even  order 
certain  humiliating  acknowledgments  of  his  power.  We 
have  heard  of  such  a  boy  insisting  that  his  victim — a  boy 
older,  physically  stronger,  and  much  bigger  than  himself — 
should  lick  a  certain  stone  in  the  road ;  and  of  others  who 
demand  that  the  object  of  their  attentions  shall  kneel  to 
them  in  the  playground  and  ask  pardon  when  no  offence 
has  been  committed. 

The  victim  seldom  gets  much  sympathy  either  from 
parents  or  from  masters.  If,  in  desperation,  such  a  boy 
reveals  the  facts,  he  is  probably  met  with  "  What  ?  Bullied 
by  that  little  chap  ?  Why  don't  you  give  him  a  good 
thrashing  ?  '  But  here  is  the  real  trouble.  If  he  felt  that 
he  could  do  so,  he  would  thrash  his  tormentor  with  the  ut- 
most delight,  and  it  would  be  very  wholesome  for  them  both. 
It  is  lack  of  courage  to  face  the  bully  and  the  possible  op- 
position of  the  bully's  friends  that  holds  the  softer  natured 
or  softly  nurtured  boy  in  terror  and  makes  resistance 
morally  impossible  even  though  physically  it  might  be  easy. 

Curative  treatment  rather  than  punishment  is  needed 
on  both  sides.  Encouragement  and  sympathy,  combined 
with  the  suggestion  that  the  remedy  is  in  his  own  hands, 
should  be  accorded  to  the  victim,  and  care  should  be  taken 
that  the  boy  is  not  made  to  feel  still  further  humiliated 
by  being  constantly  reminded  of  the  physical  inferiority 
of  his  tormentor,  a  fact  which  is  really  beside  the  point. 
The  bully,  too,  in  such  a  case  hardly  needs  to  be  punished. 
He  can  be  shown  the  moral  cowardice  of  his  conduct,  and 
an  appeal  may  be  made  to  his  natural  chivalry  all  the 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  245 

more  easily  because  be  will  probably  recognise  very  readily 
the  cowardice  of  ill-treating  boys  wbo  are  physically  weaker 
than  himself.  Let  the  master  show  him  frankly  what  the 
situation  is  ami  why  the  boy  lias  derived  enjoyment  from 
it;  let  him  treat  the  matter  rather  as  one  of  thoughtless- 
ness than  as  one  of  real  ill-will;  ami,  by  positive  rather 
than  by  negative  exhortation,  let  him  show  that  a  man 
owes  protection  and  kindly  treatment  to  those  who  are 
weaker  in  will — to  the  craven  and  even  to  the  criminal — 
no  less  than  he  owres  protection  to  women  and  children  1  > v 
reason  of  their  physical  inferiority. 

Speaking*  broadly,  punishments  are  essentially  of  two 
kinds ;    appeals   to    shame    and   appeals   to 

£       ,  °      .        pain.     The  former  kind  is  effective  inst  in 
Punishment.        ?  J 

proportion  as  the  offender  feels  the  shame. 
Shame,  too,  must  be  of  the  right  kind  ;  it  must  be  shame 
for  the  commission  of  the  offence  and  not  mere  humiliation 
arising  from  public  rebuke.  For  this  reason  such  punish- 
ment is  best  administered  in  private,  since  any  public 
attempt  to  evoke  shame  too  often  produces  an  attitude  of 
indifference  or  of  bravado. 

Punishments  of  the  second  kind  are  effective  in  serious 
cases  just  in  proportion  as  they  accentuate  and  stimulate 
shame.  Mere  pain  may  be  a  deterrent  from  the  pursuit  of 
mere  pleasure,  but  it  has  not  in  itself  any  moral  efficacy. 
The  application,  therefore,  of  corporal  punishment  to 
moral  offences  must  be  decided  on  this  ground,  whether  it 
does  or  does  not  accentuate  shame.  If  caning  be  used  as 
a  punishment  for  small  offences  against  school  regula- 
tions, no  particular  stigma  may  attach  to  it ;  but  if  it  be 
reserved  for  moral  offences,  then  it  may  carry  with  it  a 
stigma  more  punitive  than  the  actual  pain.  Yet,  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  the  smart  of  severe  physical  pain  is 
auxiliary  to  the  feeling  of  repentance  for  wrong  done  and 


I 

r 


246  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

not  to  mere  repugnance  to  its  consequences.  Sin  is  a  moral 
disease  and  requires  moral  treatment. 

If  a  boy  came  and  confessed  a  private  sin  it  would  be 
only  in  very  exceptional  circumstances,  and  in  the  case  of 
a  boy  of  very  exceptional  temperament,  that  a  judicious 
schoolmaster  would  cane  him.  Now,  if  a  caning  is  ad- 
ministered when  the  same  sin  is  discovered  by  the  master, 
instead  of  being  confessed  by  the  boy,  is  it  the  sin  or  the 
discovery  which  is  the  real  object  of  punishment  ?  And 
this  question  brings  to  our  notice  one  of  the  real  dangers 
which  beset  school  punishment — the  danger  of  punishing 
a  child,  not  for  the  offence  but  for  the  discovery  of  it. 

The  whole  point  is  '  Does  the  cane  help  to  lead  a  boy  to 
repentance  ?  '  Pain,  as  pain,  is  not  much  regarded  by  the 
healthy  British  boy.  In  his  games  he  learns  quickly  to 
regard  pain  as  incidental  and  negligible,  and  not  only  men 
but  even  young  boys  have  been  known  to  finish  a  game  of 
football  while  suffering  intense  pain  from  broken  ribs  or 
dislocated  thumbs  or  other  injuries  which  do  not  actually 
incapacitate  from  necessary  movement.  In  such  cases  it 
may  be  urged  that  the  excitement  of  play,  the  lust  of  battle, 
may  be  so  absorbing  that  the  physical  pain  is  hardly  per- 
ceived until  the  game  is  over ;  but  that  cause  certainly 
will  not  apply  in  the  case  of  a  Spartan  practice  current  in 
more  than  one,  at  least,  of  our  public  schools,  which  takes 
the  form  of  the  boys  taking  turns  in  inflicting  terrible  and 
ingenious  tortures  on  one  another,  with  the  sole  object  of 
seeing  who  will  stand  the  greater  amount  of  pain  before 
making  a  sound.  Pain,  to  a  degree  that  no  schoolmaster 
would  dare  to  inflict,  is  cheerfully  borne  in  cold  blood  by 
the  competitors  who  have  voluntarily  chosen  this  game  in 
preference  to  the  comparatively  painless  occupations  of 
chess  or  magazine  reading. 

With  such  boys,  obviously,  pain,  for  its  own  sake,  can 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  247 

have  little  punitive  value,  and  our  conclusion  must  1>e  that 
punishments  which  depend  mainly  upon  the  pain  that  they 
cause  have  no  effect  as  educative  agents,  or  have  effect  only 
as  an  appeal  to  a  particularly  low  and  craven  part  of  an 
unmanly  child's  nature.  Upon  the  will,  upon  the  moral 
character,  they  can  have  no  effect  excepting  that  which 
arises  from  a  child's  consideration  of  such  punishment  as 
being  a  payment  in  full  for  the  offence.  This  is  right 
enough  when  the  offence  is  mainly  technical,  but  with  sin 
we  must  desire  a  treatment  which  continues  till  the  fault 
has  been  overcome.  "  To  give  a  boy  a  punishment  and 
then  suppose  that  you  have  done  your  duty,  is  a  fatal  mis- 
conception. Having  forcibly  arrested  his  attention  you 
must  bring  other  forces  to  bear  upon  him — exhortation, 
encouragement,  tactful  guidance,  until  he  voluntarily 
chooses  the  right  path."1 

As  to  caning  for  smaller  offences,  to  which,  in  effect,  our 
foregoing  argument  has  practically  limited  corporal  punish- 
ment, the  chief  objection  is  its  facility.  It  tends  in  many 
classes  to  become  the  only  form  of  reproof.  Irritation  is 
aroused,  breaches  of  sympathy  are  created  or  widened, 
continual  interruptions  are  caused  in  the  work  of  the 
class.  Such  punishment  has  no  disciplinary  value,  and  we 
venture  to  think  that  if  the  system  of  awarding  '  Stars  and 
Stripes  '  were  adopted,  or  some  simple  modification  of  it 
were  devised  by  the  teacher,  the  appeal  to  shame  would  be 
more  direct  and  consequently  more  effective  as  a  real 
discipline,  and  the  use  of  corporal  punishment  would  be 
reduced  to  a  minimum. 

It  is  unfortunately  frequently  overlooked  by  school- 
p  .  ,  .  masters  that  punishment  is  directed  not 
and  the  against  an  offence,  as  a  mere  occurrence,  but 

Offender:  against  the  deed  of  an  offender;   and  since 

1  H.  Bompas  Smith  :  Boys  and  their  Management  in  School,  p.  76. 


248  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

the  form  of  punishment  is,  as  we  have  seen,  appropriately 
modified  to  suit  the  offence  committed,  it  may  be  well  to 
examine  next  that  relation  of  the  offender  to  his  crime 
which  makes  these  apparently  contradictory  considerations 
reconcileable. 

The  mere  facts  of  any  occurrence  do  not  by  themselves 
indicate  the  line  of  action  to  be  followed  as  a 
consequence.  To  take  a  simple  and  extreme 
case : — We  know  that  A  has  plunged  a  knife  into  the  body 
of  B.  Is  his  action  wrong  or  right  ?  Without  information 
or  evidence  as  to  his  motive  we  cannot  say  whether  A  is  an 
assassin  or  a  surgeon.  And  as  in  this  crude  case  we  see 
that  intention  determines  the  merit  or  demerit  of  an  action, 
so  it  may  readily  be  seen  that  the  attitude  of  an  offender 
with  regard  to  his  offence  may  affect  in  very  delicate 
gradation  the  action  taken  by  the  community  with  refer- 
ence to  the  treatment  of  crime. 

To   say  that    ''sin   is   the   transgression  of   the  Law" 
is  only  partially  to  express  the  truth.     It  is 

Persomditv  ■  ^rue  °  ^  fr(>m  the  standpoint  of  the  law- 
abiding  person.  To  the  law-breaker  it  is  less 
the  actual  transgression  than  the  failure  to  realise  the  law. 
So  long  as  the  law  against  murder  forms  part  of  the 
scheme  of  ideas  which  governs  a  man's  actions  he  is  in- 
capable of  murdering.  He  may,  as  a  soldier,  take  life 
without  personal  provocation  and  without  the  motive  of 
self-defence,  but  he  is  not  considered,  he  does  not  consider 
himself,  and  he  is  not  a  murderer. 

But  when  murder  ceases  to  be  repugnant  to  a  man, 
either  through  a  general  blunting  of  the  moral  sense  or 
through  the  preponderating  influence  of  some  vicious 
motive,  then  he  is  potentially,  if  not  actually,  a  murderer. 
His  personality  has  undergone  a  definite  change,  whether 
he  has  actually  killed  or  not. 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  249 

Let  us  assume  that  restraining  motives  of  fear  of 
discovery  and  punishment  are  not  sufficient,  or  thai  imagi- 
nation of  the  consequences  to  society  and  to  himself  is 
not  keen  enough,  to  prevent  the  deed,  and  he  In -comes 
actually  as  well  as  potentially  a  murderer.  The  pulling  of 
a  trigger,  the  thrust  of  a  knife,  have  effected  no  change  in 
the  man's  personality,  and  he  remains  on  the  whole  well- 
pleased  with  the  result  of  his  action.  He  remains  a 
murderer. 

Or  we  may  take  a  second  case  in  which,  independently 

of   fear   of    punishment,    the    death    of   his 

emorse  an        victim  fills  the  murderer  with  remorse.     He 
Repentance  ; 

loathes  the  deed ;  he  loathes  the  motives 
which  led  him  to  the  deed  ;  he  loathes  himself — that  is,  his 
former  self — for  being  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  those 
motives.  He  would  give  anything  in  his  power  to  recall 
his  action,  he  would  voluntarily  undergo  any  penalty  to 
expiate  it,  if  that  were  possible.  In  a  word,  his  remorse 
has  produced  repentance,  and  so  his  personality  has  under- 
gone a  change. 

This  change  of  personality  may,  perhaps,  take  place 
before  the  actual  commission  of  the  crime.  Bv  no  stretch 
of  imagination  or  of  language  could  he  then  be  called  a 
murderer.  But  if  the  deed  has  actually  been  committed, 
may  we  not  say,  if  the  change  of  personality  has  also 
occurred,  that  he  has  ceased  to  be  a  murderer  ? 

Now  the  functions  of  punishment  have  been  stated 
above.  It  must  be  corrective  or  reformative,  it  may  also 
be  deterrent. 

In  the  case  of  the  man  of  whom  we  have  said  that  he 
has  ceased  to  be  a  murderer,  no  fresh  refor- 
mation  is  needed.     His  personality   has  so 
changed  that  it  is  obviously  now  impossible  for  him  to 
offend  in  the  same  way  again.     He  may  even  earnestly 


250  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

desire  some  form  of  punishment  to  satisfy  himself  in  some 
degree,  even  though  he  may  recognise  that  no  penalty  can 
adequately  balance  his  offence ;  but  it  is  for  his  personal 
satisfaction  that  he  desires  it,  and  not  for  the  purpose  of 
aiding  his  reformation  or  of  protecting  the  community 
against  himself  ;  for  his  reformation  is  complete  and  there- 
fore, so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  the  community  is  safe. 

We  cannot,  however,  be  content  to  discharge  him  with 
a  caution.  The  fear  of  punishment  which  was  not  enough, 
in  his  case,  to  deter  him  from  the  crime  may  in  other  cases 
protect  society  from  the  acts  of  others  who  already  are 
potential,  but  not  actual,  murderers,  that  is,  of  those 
persons  whose  personalities  are  not  invariably  and  essenti- 
ally opposed  to  the  idea  of  killing. 

And  thus  we  reach  an  apparent  paradox :  that  the  more 
punishment  is  felt  by  the  offender  to  be  merited,  the  less 
it  becomes  necessary,  so  far  as  he  alone  is  concerned,  to 
inflict  it.  In  other  words,  the  corrective  value  of  punish- 
ment is  in  proportion  to  the  acceptance  of  its  necessity 
by  the  culprit.  Therefore  it  is  only  perfectly  successful 
when  it  is  perfectly  unnecessary. 

But  here  is  the  suitable  opportunity  for  a  penalty  that 
will  be  deterrent.  The  culprit  recognises  the  justice  of 
punishment,  may  even  desire  it  as  an  expiation  of  his 
offence,  and  it  is  simply  by  undergoing  an  exemplary 
punishment  that  expiation  can  be  made.  By  personal 
suffering  he  can  benefit  the  community  that  he  has 
injured.  He  will  not  murder  again  as  long  as  he  lives, 
whether  his  punishment  be  death  by  torture  or  a  mild 
reprimand.  But  these  sentences  upon  the  immediate 
culprit  will  have  a  widely  differing  effect  on  Bill  Sykes 
who  for  the  moment  is  a  mere  spectator  in  the  body  of 
the  court,  but  whose  programme  for  the  evening  includes 
burglary  with  a  fair  chance  of  homicide. 


STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT.  251 

We  have  stated  above  that  Hie  corrective  value  of 
punishment  is  in  proportion  to  the  acceptance  of  its  ne- 
cessity by  the  culprit.     In  other  words,  i1   is  of  value  only 

in  so  far  as  his  personality  rejects  the  offence,  and  identi- 
fies itself  with  that  particular  manifestation  of  the  spirit 
of  Eight  which,  in  the  present  instance,  is  embodied  in 

the  person  authorised  to  punish. 

How  then  can  punishment  be  operative  on  the  personal- 
ity which  is  still  identified  with  crime  and  opposed  to 
Eight  ? 

In  such  cases  the  effect  of  punishment  may  be  of  two 
kinds  according  to  the  nature  of  the  offence 

Coercive  an(j  tjie  temperament  of  the  offender.    If  the 

Punishment.  r  . 

offence  be  merely  a  habit,  undesirable  soci- 
ally but  physically  attractive  to  the  offender,  punishment 
may  be  of  use  as  a  coercive  measure  to  check  the  repetition 
of  the  offence  until  the  '  patient '  is  enabled  to  learn  that 
immunity  from  the  habitude  is  of  more  value,  and  is  pro- 

v  ■*- 

ductive  of  more  real  pleasure,  than  the  habit  itself  can 
give.  It  is  with  this  end  in  view  that  punishment  in  its 
simplest  forms  is  used.  Bitter  aloes  on  a  child's  finger- 
tips checks  the  socially  undesirable  but  physically  attractive 
habitude  of  biting  the  nails,  until  the  child  is  old  enough 
or  has  enough  experience  to  make  a  deliberate  and  wiser 
choice  of  food  stuffs  or  of  occupation. 

But  where  the  commission  of  the  offence  depends  more 
upon  deliberate  choice,  and  less  upon  mere  physical  desire, 
punishment  serves  only  to  prevent  its  occurrence  on  certain 
definite  occasions,  and  may  have  the  injurious  effect  of 
creating  a  double  personality  in  the  offender — a  personality 
which  ardently  desires,  and  sees  no  objection  to,  the  practice 
of  the  prohibited  actions,  but  which  at  the  same  time  refrains 
from  them  with  reluctance  and  with  the  determination  to 
practise  them  when  liberty  of  action  is  restored  or  obtained. 


252  STIMULUS    AND    RESTRAINT. 

It  is  in  such  cases  as  these,  when  there  is  also  in  the 
personality  of  the  offender  an  egotistic  habit  of  mind,  that 
punishment  is  apt  to  produce  a  sulky  or  rebellious  spirit 
and  to  do,  from  the  educative  point  of  view,  the  greatest 
harm.  It  is  in  such  characters  that  punishment  produces 
what  is  known  as  the  hardened  offender,  an  offender  who 
still  enjoys  the  commission  of  the  offence  and  regards  him- 
self merely  as  an  ill-used  person,  ill-used  because  the 
society  in  which  he  lives  is  stronger  than  he,  and  is  in  a 
position  arbitrarily  to  exercise  a  coercive  authority. 

But  here  again  punishment  may  have  its  chief  value  as 
a  deterrent  and  may  therefore  not  be  wholly  out  of  place. 

In  recognition  of  these  complex  ethical  and  psychological 
principles,  most  schools  are  gradually  relying 

Punishment  ^ess  anc^  ^ess  uPon  punishment  as  an  educative 
factor  or  as  a  factor  in  government.  Many 
schools,  indeed,  especially  schools  for  girls,  claim  to  have 
succeeded  in  doing  away  with  punishment  in  any  form 
excepting  that  of  rebuke  or  other  evidence  of  displeasure. 
Obviously,  forcible  punishments  are  undesirable  if  better 
results  can  be  obtained  by  other  means,  and  it  is  equally 
obvious  that  the  ideal  of  all  discipline  is  to  make  punish- 
ment unnecessary.  But  not  less  obvious  is  it  that,  so  long 
as  both  teachers  and  children  are  peccable,  the  possibility 
of  punishment  neither  can  nor  should  be  banished  from 
any  school  which  claims  to  be  a  place  of  real  moral 
training. 


INDEX. 


Adler : 
S3-4 


ABOLITION    OF     SCHOOL 
punishment,  252 

Action  :  rash  and  wise,  J 1 1-2 
Acts  :  virtuous  and  vicious,  69- 

70 
Adams:  on    example    and    pre- 
cept, 86 
,,       :  on     value      of      moral 
habits,  39 
on    ethical    instruction, 
.  86-7 
Adolescence  and  ideals,  76-7 

,,  :  temptations  of, 

115-116 
Aidos:  Greek  conception  of,  90 
Aim  of  moral  training,  12-14 

,,     of  teaching,  3-7 
Aims  :    spiritual   and   material, 

73-4 
Analysis  of  virtue,  77-9 
Appeals  to  head-teacher,  182-4 
Arabic  proverb,  135 
Arete:  Greek  conception  of,  68 
Aristotle:  on  human  Good,  57 

,,  :  on  moral  instruction, 

Asceticism,  63  [84 

Aspirations,  76 

Assimilation  of  child  to  surroun- 
dings, 7-8 
Assistant  teachers  :  relations  to 

head,  181-6 
Associations  :  human,  52 
'  Athenians     and     Corinthians, ' 

232-3 
Athletics  :  teachers  and,  177 
Authority  as  basis  of  school  law, 
134-5 


Authority  :  need  of,  44-8 
Autocracy  of  conscience,  104-5 
'Average  child,'  149 


B 


Boarding 


OARDING     SCHOOLS: 
leisure  in,  193-6 

schools :    relation    to 
home,  180 ; 
221 
,,  ,,        :visits       of 

parents  to, 
221 
Boer  father,  202-3 
Boys'    and    girls'    standards    of 

order,  160-1 
Boys'  Brigades,  9 
Bryant,  Mrs.  :   on   realists   and 

idealists,  76-7 
Bullying  :  treatment  of,  243-5 
Bureaucracy  :  evils  of,  130-1 
Butler,  S. :  on  '  compounding  for 


sins, 


94 


CADET  CORPS,  9 
Capacity  and  duty,  54 
Capacity  and  morality,  2-3 
,,  and  teaching,  3-4 

Capriciousness      in      governing 

children,  137 
Cardinal  virtues,  78-9 
Castiglione  :  on  nature  of  virtue, 
73 
,,  :    on  training  in   vir- 

tue, 36-7 ;  39 
Change  of  habitudes,  28-30  ;  35 


253 


254 


INDEX. 


Character  and  habits,  23-4 
:  good,  13;  17-19 
,,  :  training  of  through 

government,  159 
Characteristics     of      moral     in- 
struction, 87 
Charity  and  justice,  96-7 
Chattering  :  treatment  of,  239 
Childhood  and  virtue,  97-8 
Children  and  motives,  19 
,,         and  wrong  acts,  70 
,,         :  differences    in,    18-9; 

149-51 
,,         :  free  development  of, 

17-8 
,,         :  influence  of  surround- 
ings on,  7-8 
,,         :  relations     to     world, 

14-7 
,,         :  temptations  of,  94-5 
Choice  of  means,  61 
Church  Catechism:  on  duties  to 

self,  78 
,,  ,,  :  on    duty    in 

life,  125 
Classification  of  duties,  78 

,,  of  virtues,  77-8 

Coercive  punishment,  250-1 
Comfort  in  school,  196-7  ;  222 
Common   life :    educative   effect 

of,  119-23 
Community  :  nature  of,  124-9 
Competition  in  school,  32 
Compulsory  games,  191-2 
Conduct  and  conscience,  99-101 
,,        :  realisation  of  ideas  of, 
83 
Conflict  of  ends,  61-4 

,,         of  moral  maxims,  64-6 
Conscience  and  conduct,  99-101 
, ,  and  frustrated  inten- 

tions, 100-1 
,,  and  future  acts,  99- 

100 
,,  and  habitude,  112 

,,  and  past  acts,  101 

,,  and  prejudice,  105-6 

,,  and    self-complacen- 

cy, 105-6 


5  5 


55 

5  5 


Conscience  and  will,  111-2 

,,  :  appeals  to,  117-8 

,,  :    development       of, 

111-5 
,,  :  education  of,    110- 

118 
,,  :  emotional     aspect, 

103-4 
,,  :  exercise  of,  99-101  ; 

103 
,,  :  inner  and  outer,  105 

mistakes  of,  105 
sensitiveness       of, 
110-1 
,,  :  validity  of,  105-7 

Constraint  and  duty,  41-4 

,,  and  freedom,  48-54 

,,  in  home  and  school, 

43-4 
,,  :  justification  of ,  44-8 

:  nature  of,  41-3 
:  positive  and  nega- 
tive, 58-9 
Copying  :  treatment  of,  240-3 
Corporal  punishment :  power  to 

inflict, 
184-6 
:  use     of, 
247 

Courage,  91-2 
Cousin,   V.  :  on  duty,  54 
Crabbe :    on    '  the    tyrant-boy,' 

147-8 
Cultivation  of  wisdom,  83-7 


DAY     SCHOOLS:    GAMES 
in,  192-3 

Day  schools  :  house  system  in, 
192-3 
,,  ,,        :  relation  to  home, 

180-1 
Deliberation  and  impulse,  113-4 
Detention,  240 
Deterrent  punishment,  235-6 
Development  of  conscience,  111-5 
Diagram  representing   relations 
of  government  discipline  and 
influence,  156 


>» 


>> 


I  NDEX. 


•j:,:. 


55 
55 
55 


>5 

J  J 
55 
55 


Dickens:  on  children  and  injus- 
tice, 137 
Difficulty  of  life,  82 
Direction  in   moral  instruction, 

85-6 
Disciplinarian  :   the  overwhelm- 
ing, 145-0 
Disciplinary   use   of  fear,    140; 

171-3 
1  discipline  :  aim  of,  19 

and  duty,  54-5 

and  organization,  180 

and  supervision,   151- 

152 
as  personal   relation, 

143-4 
:  effect  on  self-asser- 
tion, 123 
:  function  of,  142 
:  relations  in,  168-9 
:  relation  to  govern- 
ment, 142  ;  153-5  ; 
156 
,,  :  relation  to  influence, 

155-6 
,,  :  variation  with  chil- 

dren, 148-151 
Disobedience  :  treatment  of,  238 
Double  personality,  20 
Duties  as  stimulus,  234 

:  classification  of,  78 
of  parents,  217-20 
of  school,  206-17 
Duty  and  capacity,  54 
,,      and  constraint,  41-4 
,,      and  discipline,  54-5 
,,      and  habitudes,  38-9 
,,      and  inclination,  62-4;  224- 

225 
,,      and  life,  56-61 
and  pleasure,  63-4 
and  relations   to   parents, 

39-41 
and  virtue,  68-9 
as  inward  force,  54-6 
:  decision  of,  61-6 
:  development  of,  60-1 
:  origin  of,  39-41 
:  standard  of,  59-61 


55 
5  5 
55 


55 

5  5 


EDUCATION    AND     IN  Di- 
vidual ily,   17-20 
Education  and  morality,  I  -7 
in  family,  202- 1 

,,  of  conscience,    I  10  8 

Kducative  effect  of  common  life, 

119-23 
Eliot,  O. :  on  embodied  ideas,  <"> 
,,         :  on   meaning   and   do- 
ing, LOO 
Embodiment  of  purpose,  74-7 
A'/// //e(  Rousseau's) at  fifteen  years 

old,  46 
,,  ,,  attwelve  years 

old,  45 
Emotion  and  conscience,  103-4 
Employment  after  school,  215-7 
Emulation  defined,  32 
Ends  :  conflict  of,  61-4 
Errors  of  conscience,  105-6 
Erudition  and  thought,  177 
Esprit  de  corps,  199-201 
Ethical  analysis  of  conduct,  86 
Mhos  of  school,  197-9 
Eton  Workhouse  school,  11 
Eucken:  on  aim  of  education,  65 
,,       :  on  child  and  responsi- 
bility, 55 
Experience  and  wisdom,  83 
Expiation  of  offences,  249-51 


F 


ACTORY  AS  AN  ORGAN- 
ized    community,     52-3  ; 
127-9 
Family  education,  202-4 

,,      :  formative  of  habitudes, 
30 
Fear  :  appeal  to,  140  ;  171-3 
Feeling  :  relations  of,  14-5 
Fidgeting  :  treatment  of,  239 
Field  Clubs,  215 
Foolhardiness  and  courage,  92 
Fortitude  and  courage,  91 
Freedom  and  human  constraint, 
50-4 
,,         and       physical       con- 
straint, 49-50 
,,         and  purpose,  49  ;  53 


256 


INDEX. 


Freedom  and  society,  52-4 
,,         :  nature  of,  48-54 


GAMES      AND     HOUSE 
system,  192-3 
Games  :  compulsory,  191-2 

,,       :  organization  of,  191-3 
Generosity  and  justice,  97 
Geocze,  Mde  de :  on  influence  of 

school-mates,  121-2 
Gladstone,  W.  E.  :  on  duty,  57 
God  :  omniscience  of,  95 
Good  character,  development  of, 

13;  17-9 
Government  and  age  of  pupils, 
161 
and  discipline,  139 
and  sex  of  pupils, 

160-1 
and  social  position 

of  pupils,  161-2 
and      training      of 

character,  159 
as      formative      of 

habits,  158 
difficulties  of,  169- 

170 
evils  of  too  strict, 

143-4;  167-8 
failure  of,  170-1 
functions  of,  157-9 
laxity  in,  163-4 
need  of,  139  ;  157 
reasonable,  166-7 
relation  to   discip- 
line, 142  ;  153-5  ; 
156 
,,  :  relation  to  pupils, 

160-2 
, ,  :  relation  to  teacher, 

159-60 
,,  :  rigidity  in,  164-8 

,,  :  teacher's    standard 

of,  162-3 
Greek  conception  of  aidos,  90 
,,  ,,  of  arete,  68 

Grenfe//,  A.  (1.  :  system  of  'Stars 
and  Stripes,'  229-32 


Group-consciousness,  121-3 
Growth  of  virtues  and  vices,  71 
Guidance  :  moral,  115-7 


HABITS     AND    CHARAC- 
ter,  23-4 
Habits  and  government,  158 
,,      and  habitudes,  24-5 
,,       :  origin  of,  21-2 
,,       :  place  in  life,  22-3 
Habitude  and  conscience,  112 

,,         and  duty,  38-9 
Habitudes  and  family,  30 
,,  and  lessons,  33-5 

,,  and  life,  25-7 

,,  and  purpose,  37 

,,  and  school  games,  33 

,,  and     virtue,     69-71  ; 

81-2 
,,  :  change    of,     28-30  ; 

35 
,,  :  danger  of,  27 

,,  in  school  life,  30-7 

,,  :  relation    to   habits, 

24-5 
,,  :  strength  of,  25-7 

Head-teacher     and     assistants, 
181-6 
,,  :  appeals  to,  182-4 

,,  :  functions  of ,  131- 

132  \\)CL 

, ,  :  i  n  fl  u  e n  c  e     on 

school       tone, 
144-5;  152 
Heaven,  224-5 
Heraclitus :  on  wisdom,  82 
Herbart :  on  education  and  mor- 
ality, 1 
Herodotus:  on  force  of  custom, 

108 
Heroism,  60 
Hero-worship,  75-6 
History  and  morality,  5 
Holidays     of      boarding  -  house 

pupils,  222-3 
Home  :  character  of,  8-9 

,,       :  discontent  with  school, 
202-4 


INI)  K  X . 


257 


Home:  failure     to     understand 

school,  2< ).")ii 

influence  of,  7- H> 

relation   to  school,    10; 

202-23 

House-master  and  boys'  leisure, 

I!).-) 
'House'  system  in  day  schools, 

L92-3 
'  ffudibras' :  quotation  from,  94 
Human  relations,  15-7 


IDEALISM  IN  YOUTH,  76-7 
Ideas  as  purposes,  75-7 
Ideas  of  conduct :  realisation  of, 

83 
Idleness  :    treatment    of,    55-6  ; 

236-9 
Idylls  of  the  Kitty:  passage  from, 

16 
Ignorance  and  culpability,   113- 

114 
Impositions,  236  ;  237-9 
Impulse  and  deliberation,  113-4 
Inattention:  treatment  of,  240 
Inclination  and  duty,  62-4  ;  224- 

225 
Incompatibility   between    home 

and  school,  205-6 
Individual  and  society,  52-4 

,,  :  influence  on  school 

tone,  148 
Influence  of  home,  7-10 
,,         of  school,  10-12 
,,         :  relation  to  discipline, 
155-6 
Insight:  moral,  114-5 
Instruction  and  tone,  10-12 

:  moral,  83-91 
Intelligence  and  conduct,  80-3 
,,  of  teacher,  177 

,,  :  relations  of,  14-5 

Intending  and  doing,  80-1 
Intention  and  act,  248 
Intercourse     between     teachers 

and  parents,  207-9 
Interference     of    parents    with 
^>    school,  204-5  ;  218-9 

M.  D.  S. 


JESUIT     SYSTEM     OF 
f)       -sides,-  232-3 

Judgment  of  others,  59-60 

Justice,  95-7 

Justification  of  constraint,  44-8 


K 


KNOWLEDGE    of    Teacher, 
177 


LABOUR    OF    MARKING, 
228 
Laxity  in  government,  163-4 
Liws  of  community  :  nature  of, 

126-7 
Leisure-time  in  boarding  schools, 
193-6 
,,  in  day  schools,  213-5 

Lending  libraries,  215 
Letters  from  parents  to  teachers, 
219 
,,       from  teachers  to  parents, 
209 
Life  and  duty,  56-61 
,,    and  habits,  22-3 
,,    and  habitudes,  25-7 
,,    and  morality,  1-3 
,,     :  difficulty  of,  82 
Literature  and  morality,  5-6 
Local  Authorities  :  functions  of, 

130-1 
Luxury  during  holidays,  222-3 
,,       in  school,  197 


MANLINESS,  91-2 
Marks,  226-9 
Martinet  government :  evils  of, 

143-4;  167-8 
Master  and   future   pursuits   of 
pupils,  215-7 
,,        and  prefects,  175-6 
,,        and  pupil :    relation  of, 
171-2;  173-6 
Materialism,  71-4 
Mathematics  and  morality,  4-5 
Maxims  :  conflict  of,  64-6 
Means  :  choice  of,  61 

17 


258 


INDEX. 


55 


Method  :    necessary  to  teacher, 
179 

Milton  :  on  compulsion,  4 
Mistakes  of  conscience,  105-6 
Mohammedan  paradise,  225 
Monitors  in  elementary  schools, 

187-8 
Moral   development :    order   of, 
75-6 
,,       guidance,  115-7 
,,       ideas  :  extension  of,  115 
„       insight,  109-10;  114-5 
,,       instruction,  83-91 

thoughtfulness,  27 ;  113-4 
,,       training:  aim  of,  12-14 
Morality  and  capacity,  2-3 
and  education,  1-7 
and  history,  5 
,,         and  life,  1-3 
,,         and  literature,  5-6 
,,         and  mathematics,  4-5 
,,         and  religion,  87-8;  115 
,,         and  school,  7 
,,         and  teaching,  3-7 
,,       :  progress  in,  109-10 
,,       :  teaching  of,  83-91 
Motive  and  act,  248 
Mulcaster :  on  public  nature  of 

education,  120-1 
Museums,  215 
Mutual  help  in  work,  241 

"VTATURAL    HISTORY    SO- 

±\      cieties,  215 
Negation  of  habitudes,  28-30;  35 
Negative  commands,  58-9 
Neglect :  parental,  203-4 
Neivbolt :   on  life  and  rewards, 

228 
Nirvana,  224 
Non-human  relations,  15-7 

OBLIGATIONS      AND 
rights,  123-4 
Occupation  of  leisure  in  boarding 
schools,  193-6 
,,  of     leisure    in    day 

schools,  213-5 


Offences  :  kinds  of,  236 
Officers  :  disciplinary,  181-91 
Offices  as  stimulus,  234 
Omniscience  of  God,  95 
Order  and  age  of  pupils,  161 

,,       and  sex  of  pupils,  160-1 

,,       and     social     position     of 
pupils,  161-2 

,,     :  laxity  in,  163-4 

,,    :  need  of,  158 

,,    :  reasonable,  166-7 

,,     :  rigidity  in,  164-8 

,,     :  standards  of,  159-68 
Organization  and  discipline,  180 
Origin  of  duty,  39-41 

,,      of  habits,  21-2 
Outer  conscience,  105 


>AIN  :  APPEALS  TO,  245-7 

Parental    interference    in 
school,  204-5 
Parental  neglect,  203-4 
Parents       and       authority      of 
teacher,  217-8  ;  219-20 
and  education,  9 
:  intercourse  of  teachers 

with,  207-9 
:  interference  with  work 

of  school,  218-9 
:  letters  to,  209 
:  letters  to  teachers,  219 
:  loyalty     to     teachers, 

219-20 
:  physical  care  of   chil- 
dren, 220 
:  visits      to      boarding 
schools,  221 
Patriotism  in  school  and  house, 

199-201 
Penny  dreadfuls,  214 
Personality,  13-4 

:  double,  20 
Photographic  Societies,  215 
Physical  care  of  children,  220 
Plato:  on  enchanting  the  soul, 
149 
,,      :  on  will  and  capacity,  1 
Pleasure  and  duty,  63-4  ;  224-5 


INDEX. 


259 


'Pluck,'  92 
Precept :  moral,  86 
Prefects  and  boys'  leisure,  195 
,,        and  master,  175-0 
,,       :  appointment  of,  188-9 
,,       :  duties  of,  190-1 
,,       :  in     boarding     schools, 

188-91 
,,       :  in  day  schools,  180-7 
,,       :  in  preparatory  schools, 
188 
Prejudice  and  conscience,  105-0 
Principles  of  school  training,  37 
Prizes,  233-4 
Progress     in     apprehension     of 

moral  law,  109-10 
Prohibitions,  58-9 
Promotion,  234 
Proverb,  Arabic,  135 
Proverbs  :  on  vanity  of  pleasure, 

72-3 
Prudence,  40  ;  79-80 
Punishment  :  abolition  of,  252 
,,  :  abuse  of,  238 

,,  :  coercive,  251-2 

,,  ,  corporal :  power  to 

inflict,  184-0 
,,  ,  corporal  :  use   of, 

247 
,,  :  disciplinary,  173 

,,  :  evils  of,  141 

,,  :  failures  of,  235 

,,  :  functions  of,  140-1 

235-0 
,,  :  kinds  of,  245-7 

,,  :  need  of,  140-1 

Punishments:  unjustifiable,  141- 

142 
Pupil  and  master  :  relation  of, 

171-2;  173-0 
Purpose  and  freedom,  49  ;  53 
,,        and  habitude,  37 
,,       and  school  training,  36- 

37 
,,       and  virtue,  71-7 
,,        :  embodiment  of,  74-7 
,,        in  school :  unity  of ,  130 
Purposes :  spiritual  and  material, 
73-4 


RASH  ACTION,  111-2 
Realism  in  youth,  70-7 
Recklessness  and  courage,  92 
Recollectedness,  118 
Reformative  punishment,  235 
Relations  of  child  to  world  :  ob- 
jective side,  15-7 
Relations  of  child  to  world  :  sub- 
jective side,  14-5 
Religion  and  conscience,  115 
,,  ,,     morality,  87-8 

Religious  guilds,  9 
Remorse,  101-2  ;  249 
Repentance,  101-2;  249 

,,  and  punishment,  245- 

24(5 
Reports  on  children,  209-12  ;  221 
Reserve  of  teacher,  178 
Retributive  punishment,  235-0 
Reverence,  88-91 
Rewards,  233-4 
Riches  and  wisdom,  73 
Rights  and  obligations,  123-4 
Rigidity  in  government,  104-8 
'Romans     and     Carthaginians,' 

232-3 
Rousseau:  on  aim  of  life,  45 

,,       :  on  children's  impulses, 

45 
, ,        :  on  contemporary  edu- 
cation, 44 
,,        :  on  habit,  23 
,,        :  on    human    develop- 
ment, 45 
,,         :  on  love  of  childhood, 

44 
, ,        :  on  man's  freedom,  47 ; 

50 
,,        :  on  nature  of    happi- 
ness, 45 
, ,        :  on  obedience  in  child- 
hood, 45 
,,        :  on     punishment     of 

children,  45 
,,         :  on   relation   of   child 

to  nature,  40 
,,        :  on  social  relations,  40; 
40-7 ;  50 
Rugby :  prefects  at,  189 


260 


INDEX. 


liuskin  :  on  advancement  in  life, 
73 

,,  :  on  essentials  of  educa- 
tion, 88 

,,  :  on  object  of  education, 
74-5 


QT.  GEORGE'S  CLUB,  215 

O     St.  Paul :  on  charity,  97 
School  and  family,  119-20 
School   and   future    pursuits   of 
pupils,  215-17 
,,     habitudes.  30-7 
,,     moral  purpose.  7 
,,     moral  training,  55 
,,     teaching,  G-7 
as    a    community,     125  ; 

129-133 
as     self-governhi'_r,    142 : 

144-5 
-cap,  199 

:  duties  of,  206-17 
:  failure    to    meet    home 

demands,  205-6 
-feeling  and  house-feeling, 

200-1 
government  :  functions  of, 

157-9 
habitudes,  32-5 
:  influence  of,  10-2 
laws  :  basis  of,  134-5 
, ,    :  breadth  of,  1  .'58 
,,    :  characteristics     of, 

133-8 
,,     :  enforcementof,  138- 

42 
,,    :  justice  of,  137 
kinds  of,  133 
nature  of,  127 
publicity  of,  138 
reasonableness     of, 
135-6 
,,     :  recognition  of,  132- 
3;  136 
organiza  tion,  1 29-30 
:  relation    to    home,    If); 

202-23 
tone,  143-8  ;  197-201 


55 
55 
55 
55 


55 
55 


55 


School  tone  and  individuals,  146-8 
,,    :  improvement  of,  199 
,,    :  variations  of,  198 
tradition,  143  ;  147 
training  and  purpose,  36-7 
,,       :  unity  of  purpose,  130 
Schoolmaster  :  qualities  of ,  177-9 

:  skilful,  129-30 
Schools  :  day      and      boarding, 

180-1 
Scouts'  patrols,  9  ;  215 
Se'ailles  :  on  love  of  truth,  90-1 
,,        :  on  relation  of  duty  to 
child,  54 
Self-assertion  of  childhood,  122- 

123 
Self-complacenc}'  and  conscience, 

105-6 
Selfishness  and  justice,  96 
Self-knowledge,  90 
Sensationalism,  72-4 
Sensitiveness  :  moral,  110-1 
Sentimentalism,  104 
Shakespeare :  on   truth   to  self, 

96 
Shame  :  appeal  to,  116-7  ;  245-7 
'Sides,' 232-3 

Sidy  wick,  A. :  on  moral  instruc- 
tion, 84-5 
Sin  :  dealings  with,  116-8  ;   175  ; 

246-7 
Smith,  H.  Bompas :  on  insuffici- 
ency of  punishment,  247 
Smith,   Sydney:  on' meaning  of 

Education, 
134-5 
,,  ,,       :  on  neeel  of  dis- 

cipline, 145 
,,  ,,       :  on     obedience, 

135 
Societies  for  leisure  pursuits,  215 
Society  and  the  individual,  52-4 
Solecisms  :  social,  103-4 
Soimd-mindedness,  93-5 
Spartan  hoy  and  theft,  107-8 
Spencer,  11.:  on  educative  value 
of  science,  89 
,,         :    on      method       of 
teaching,  89 


INDEX. 


261 


»j 


55 


Spill er,  G. :  on  morals  and  teach- 
ing, 4 
Spoilt  child,  48 
'Stars  and  Stripes,'  229-32 
Stimulus  of  marks,  228-9 
Sfrroisoii,  It.  L.  :  on  aspirations, 

70 
,,  :  on  courage  and 

intelligence, 
80 
:  on  desire    and 
curiosity,  85 
:  on  devotion  to 
business,    72 
on      effect     of 
years,  94 
:  on   inspiration 
of    The    Re- 
venge, 87 
:  on      prudence, 

46 
:  on    serviceable 

life,  91 
:  on     the    weak 
brother,  47 
Strength  of  habitudes,  25-7 

of  will,  02-3 
Suggestion  and  command,  59 
Supervision  and  discipline,  151- 

152 
Sympathy :    as   basis   of   school 
law,  134-5 


TALKATIVENESS   :     treat- 
ment of,  239 
Tasks  as  Punishments,  237-9 
Teacher  and  future  pursuits  of 
pupils,  215-7 
,,        and  pupil:  relations  of, 

171-2;  173-6 
,,       :  intercourse    with 

parents,  207-9 
,,       :  letters  to  parents,  209 
,,       qualities  of,  177-9 
Teaching  and  capacity,  3-4 
,,         ,,      morality,  3-7 
,,         ,,      schools,  0-7 


Teaching:  need  for  natural  apti- 
tude, 170-1 
,,         of  morality,  83-91 
Temperance,  92-5 
T'lii/ih,  Dr.:  as  governor,  137 
Temptation,  93-4 
Tennyson  :    passage  from  Idyll* 

offhr  King,  10 
Text-books  :   change  of,  212 
Theft  in  ancient  Sparta  and   in 

modern  states,  107-N 
Tlioughtfulness,  113-4 
Thriiu/:  on    dealing    with    sins, 
110 
,,        :  on  external  interference, 
131 
Tone  and  Instruction,  10-2 

,,     in  school,  143-8;  197-201 
Tradition  :  school,  143  ;   147 
Training  of  conscience,  111 
Treatment  of  idleness,  55-0 
Tufnell :    report  on  Workhouse 

schools,  11-2 
'  Tyrant  boy,"  147-8 


IJ 


NITY   OF   PURPOSE 

school,  130 


IX 


^/-ALHALLA,  224 

V       Validity     of    conscience, 
105-7 
Variations    in     conceptions     of 
duty,  107-10 
,,  in  treatment  of  chil- 

dren, 137 
Vergerius :   definition  of  emula- 
tion, 32 
Vices  :  growth  of,  71 
Vicious  acts,  09-70 
Virtue  :  analysis  of,  77-9 
,,        and  childhood,  97-8 

„     duty,  08-9 
,,         ,,     habitudes,     09-71  ; 

81-2 
,,         ,,     purpose,  71-7 
,,      :   nature  of,  !>7-8 


262 


INDEX. 


Virtues  :  cardinal,  78-9 

,,       :  classification  of,  77-8 
Virtuous  acts,  69-70 
Visits    of   parents    to   boarding 
schools,  221 


WILL  AND  CONSCIENCE, 
111-2 
Will :  relations  of,  14-5 
,,     :  strength  of,  62-3 
Wilson:  on  religious  education, 
88 


Windsor  Workhouse  school,  11-2 
Wisdom,  79-91 

,,       and  experience,  83 
,,       and  riches,  73 
,,       :  cultivation  of,  83-7 
Wisdom  of  Solomon:  on  the  car- 
dinal virtues,  78-9 
Wise  action,  111-2 
Wordsworth  :     on    qualities    of 

life,  88 
World  :    relations   of   child   to, 

14-7 
Wrong  acts  of  children,  70 


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